Bad Moon over Rock Hollow
by NotTasha
Summary: A Magnificent Seven round robin story written by Tipper, Sablecain, Violette, J Brooks, flah7 and NotTasha. The guys get into a whole lot of trouble in the town of Rock Hollow. All the M7 guys play a major part
1. Part 1

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 1**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette  
Sadly, I couldn't put all of our names on this story when setting it up in ff dot net. Please be aware that we all contributed to it.

_A group of M7 writers needed an excuse to write a story. Luckily, we came across a list of 50 prompts that were used by the SGA-GenFicathon, which germinated a wonderful group of Stargate Atlantis stories on Live Journal. You should check out when you can. _

_This is not an SGA story. It's totally M7. We borrowed the list and used it to form this story. Taking turns, we chose a prompt from the list and wrote a short section to advance this story and try to make a little sense along the way. This is the result, and it's all for fun! We hope you enjoy it._

_1) "A room with a view" - NotTasha_

The man rested against the sill of the window. The curtains clung to his shoulders as he kept low, his gaze on the world outside. In one hand he gripped his rifle, ready to bring it into action when the moment presented itself. His other hand wrapped around the neck of a tall bottle of whiskey. It had been held in that grip for so long that he'd started to lose the feeling in those fingers.

The weight of the bottle rested on one knee as he half-knelt, almost genuflecting - waiting. Grit on the floor dug into the other knee and he considered changing his position enough to brush away the material, but it wasn't enough of a bother, and he had been waiting long enough for this moment. He could wait a little longer.

He kept still. Waiting, watching ready.

_2) "Calm before the storm" J Brooks_

In the street below, the townsfolk scurried for cover, casting anxious glances skyward. A rumble of thunder sped them on their way as the wind picked up and the first fat drops of rain bit into the dust like bullets.

He ignored the bystanders and the weather, all his attention focused on the two men standing in the middle of the road, arguing.

A tall figure in black was gesturing emphatically back the way they had come. The other man shook his head - his own ability to gesture, rudely or otherwise, hampered by the sling that bound one red-coated arm against his side.

Another clap of thunder startled everyone on the street. The injured man winced, then swayed, and might have fallen if the man in black hadn't reached out a hand to steady him. Keeping one hand on the smaller man's good arm, he raked the street with a watchful glare, passing over the watcher's window without pausing.

Eyes narrowed, the man in the window above lowered the whiskey bottle to the floor and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

_3) "Anniversaries" - Sablecain_

Squinting, Neville Wild lined the two men up in his sight. Though the rain was falling harder now, neither man had yet to pay it any heed. Wild knew his time was running out. This was his chance. He curled a calloused finger around the trigger. He took a deep breath and held it. This was it. It'd taken him three years to reach this point. Three years of gathering information. Three years of following false leads. Three years of hunting every backwater town west of the Mississippi. And then, he received word. Finally, his sacrifice and dedication had paid off. It had all fallen into place perfectly, obviously meant to be. Three years to the day he had lost her. Today he was going to take out the man who'd taken her away. Exhaling slowly, Wild pulled the trigger.

_4) "Collateral Damage" - Tipper_

Chris looked up even as the rain started to pelt down. His senses were on high alert ever since someone had tried to shoot Ezra yesterday.

Even though Ezra, for some stupid reason, didn't seem to want to believe it. He kept insisting that whoever had shot at them yesterday wasn't aiming at him, the dislocated shoulder he'd received while diving from his horse notwithstanding.

But, as Ezra fell against him, some sort of sixth sense drew Chris' attention to the window, spotting the rifle barrel sticking out, pointed straight at the two of them.

"Get down!" Chris shouted, driving Ezra into the dirt as the first shot rang out.

More bullets followed, and Chris rolled Ezra sideways, pulling both men behind the first cover he could find, which was the horse trough in front of the saloon. Dirt, mud and water splattered around them as the rifle continued to fire, blasting holes in anything it could find, mixing in with the rain that was beginning to come down hard.

Chris pulled his peacemaker, determined to fire back, and pain exploded up his right arm. Hissing in pain, he ducked down further, noting the rip in his black sleeve, and the blood staining the fabric. _Damn_.

And then he thought to check on Ezra.

_5) "The best-laid plans" - NotTasha_

"You've ruined it!" Ezra spouted. He held his Remington in his free hand as he tried to push himself into a sitting position against the trough. Hampered by the sling, it wasn't easy. He winced as his shoulder came into contact with the hard wood. "My jacket is absolutely ruined. Was there a reason to roll me about in this muck? No, sir! This will never come out completely."

Chris gave him an unpleasant look as he clutched at his arm. "You'll get over it."

Ezra paused, gazing toward Chris' bloodied sleeve "Bad?" he asked.

"I'll get over it," Chris repeated the sentiment as he let loose his hold and picked up his peacemaker again. He hated getting shot. Damn fool thing to have happened. "What the hell were you doing in the street?" he growled. "I told you to stay put!" He gestured angrily toward the window above them. "You got a man gunnin' for you! You're already hurt worse than you think you are." Ezra nearly fainting in the street had scared the crap out of Larabee, but the ducked head had allowed him to see the rifle barrel in the window - the gambler picked a fortuitous moment to waver.

A bullet clipped the saloon sign above their heads, sending down a shower of wood.

Ezra scowled. "I was plannin' to prove you wrong!" He returned sharply. "He wasn't aiming at me!"

"How were you going to prove it?" Chris asked bluntly.

Ezra shook his head as another bullet struck, taking out more wood on the sign; it swung wildly above their heads. Rain hissed down loudly around them. People fled the street. "We need to get out of town," he muttered. A flash filled the sky and thunder rolled again.

"You're gonna get us both killed for whatever you done to that man," Chris went on.

Ezra turned toward Chris, giving him a look that Larabee couldn't quite interpret, and Ezra raised himself up above the lip of the trough to take a shot at the man who'd trapped them.

_6) "Optical illusion" - J Brooks_

"What in hell are you bastards doing to my town?" a voice boomed behind them.

Larabee whirled in a crouch, leveling his gun at the tin star on the chest of the stocky figure that had materialized out of the rain behind them. From the hiss of pain beside him, he could tell that Standish's attempt to mirror the movement hadn't gone well.

The rain pelted down harder, blurring visibility on the street. Another bullet splintered the hitching post rail beside them. Rufus Deeds, sheriff of Rock Hollow, kept his attention, and his pistol, on the unwelcome visitors from Four Corners.

"Don't know what sort of trouble you brought down on us, but I want you to take it with you when you leave," he said, jerking his head toward the town limits and the canyon country beyond. "And I want you to leave now."

"Get down," Larabee hissed at the pig-headed sheriff, not lowering his weapon. A fresh volley from the unseen shooter above bit into the trough. He gave a rough sideways shove, knocking a protesting Ezra back down into the mud. He turned his attention to the oblivious lawman. "Are you trying to get yourself shot?" he bellowed through the rain, waving his gun for emphasis. "Get-"

Another crack of the rifle and Sheriff Deeds stiffened. He looked down at his chest and the red stain spreading out from behind the tin star. He looked up at Larabee incredulously, mouth working as he teetered, then collapsed, face-first in the mud.

Larabee froze with his gun still pointing in the air where the sheriff had been standing.

Up and down the street, pale faces appeared in doors and windows.

The first cry went up. "They shot the sheriff!"

Other voices joined in, baying for blood.

"Get 'em!"

"Get the rope!"

That was all he needed to hear. Reaching down, he hauled Ezra to his feet and started running.

_7) "Animals" - Tipper_

The rain hid a lot, so dense now as to hide buildings and people of Rock Hollow behind a thick fog of spray and mist.

Like a godsend, a large barn-like structure appeared before them, accompanied by the stench of tightly packed animals. Chris angled towards the pen in front of it, which was full of pigs and cattle, most of them lying down.

"You're not serious!" Ezra whined as he panted next to him. "There?"

"There." He snapped, grabbing Ezra's good arm and shoving him into the fence, so he would climb over. With only one arm, Ezra did so very ungracefully, landing in an almost sprawl on the other side, stumbling into a cow that looked up at him balefully. Ezra backed up sideways, nearly into Chris who had jumped over far more easily. With a growl, Chris shoved him unceremoniously towards the closed doors of the barn, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm.

Chickens squawked where they'd been huddled next to the cows, using them as shelter. A few birds sailed up, disappearing into the rain. Mostly, though, the thick pack of animals barely moved, requiring Ezra and Chris to wind through them.

Chris kept his head down, and was glad to see Ezra doing the same, both ducking so that the animals would provide cover, hiding them from the men that were surely after them.

Within moments, they were inside the dry barn, the stench of animals thicker in here, and the door shut behind them. No one immediately followed. Perhaps their escape had confused the others.

Since there was no immediate pursuit, Chris quickly took stock there was another door leading out the back, a loft overhead, with windows, pens and hay. Rakes, shovels, axes and other barn implements were scattered about, hanging from posts. He stared the longest at the far doors.

Question was, did they run? Or did they stay to figure out what the hell was going on?

_8) "A trek through the pouring rain" - Sablecain_

Vin glared out through the torrents of rain, controlling his desire to push his horse faster along the worn path. Behind him Buck and Nathan rode, both wrapped in serapes and hunched low over their saddles. Riding through the rain was a practice in misery, but no one even considered stopping to wait for the storm to pass.

"Think they're still there?" Buck had to almost shout over the pounding rain.

Vin half-turned in his saddle. "Depends on how things were going. Chris wanted to lay low and wait for us, but it sounded like Ezra wasn't having any of that."

The wire Larabee had sent from Rock Hollow had been low on details, but they'd gleaned enough to know that someone had taken a shot at Standish, and though they'd missed, Ezra had been banged up a bit. The incident had left Chris nervous enough to ask for a few of them to meet him and Standish on the trail.

"Should 'ave met up with them by now if Ezra pushed Chris into leaving instead of waiting on us." Nathan's words were followed by a resounding clap of thunder, lightning immediately crackled across the sky in its wake.

"Don't like it." Buck shook his head, sending water spraying about as Vin turned back to the trail.

_9) "I see the bad moon rising/I see trouble on the way / I see earthquakes and lightnin' / I see bad times today"  
(Credence Clearwater Revival) - NotTasha_

"Moon's up," Josiah said as he rode alongside JD. The sky lit up at the same moment, followed quickly by the clap of thunder.

JD let out a little yelp, unintentionally giving his horse a kick. The bay jogged as thunder rolled. Bringing the horse back under control, JD scoffed, "It's daytime. There's no moon yet."

"Haven't you ever noticed the moon while the sun's still up?" Josiah asked as he tipped his hat, losing about a cup of water from the brim. It splashed onto the wet saddlehorn.

"Sure," JD said after a moment's thought. "Always struck me as an odd thing, like something wasn't quite right." He shook his head with a laugh. "Don't see how you could know it was up anyway." He nodded toward the dark, clouded sky. "Ain't seeing nothing in _that_ sky today."

The battering of rain filled the air with a constant sound, like a murmuring of a crowd. Around them, puddles seemed to vibrate, their surfaces forever disturbed by the constant rainfall. In the distance, lightning flashed again.

"How would anyone know if the moon rose or not today?" JD went on.

"I know when the moon waxes," Josiah replied. "I know when it wanes. I know when it rises and sets. I pay attention to such things. There's plenty of myth and suspicion surrounding the moon. Some of it is very strange. Not all of it is wrong-headed."

"So," JD started, drawing out the word as they rode alongside each other. "What's a moon in daylight supposed to mean? Especially on a day like this?"

Josiah shrugged, his expression philosophical. "That, I do not know. But, I just have a very bad feeling." And the thunder cracked, so close that it shook the ground around them.

_10) "So I start the revolution from my bed, 'cos you said the brains I have went to my head"  
(Don't Look Back in Anger by Oasis) - J Brooks_

Leaving Ezra to guard the door, Chris scaled the loft ladder and made his way to the window. A bolt of lightning blasted the ground just outside town, illuminating the growing crowd of men and horses milling in the center of the street. He let out a frustrated growl. He'd hoped the rain would keep everyone indoors for a while, but Rock Hollow must have been fonder of its sheriff than he thought. They certainly were an unsavory looking group.

The flash faded and the town and its growing posse vanished from sight again behind the driving curtain of rain.

Larabee scrubbed at his forehead. The mob, not to mention the unknown assassin who started this mess, stood between them and the livery on the other side of town where they'd left their horses. They wouldn't make it far on foot, and not even the most dimwitted posse would ride by without searching this barn.

He clambered down the ladder again and stopped short.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, glaring at the gambler, who was hauling cattle out of their pens and doing his one-armed best to crowd them all into the center of the barn.

"An old Irish proverb - oof! - comes to mind at times like this," Standish huffed, throwing his good shoulder behind one heifer's hindquarters and shoving the reluctant cow closer to the door. "Sometimes a good run is better than a bad stand."

He straightened, or tried to, and gave Larabee a crooked grin. Larabee's eyes narrowed as he studied the battered gambler. After the gunshot sent Ezra diving from his saddle, there hadn't been time to do much more than cobble up a sling and ride full-tilt for the nearest town.

"Did you hit your head when you fell off your horse?" Larabee asked, eyeing the cows suspiciously. "Because if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, this is officially the stupidest plan you've ever come up with."

Ezra feigned offense. "That was not a fall, that was a swift dismount," he said, surveying the small mob of cattle, chickens, goats and an overfed burro with satisfaction. "We need a distraction, and most people find stampedes fairly distracting."

Larabee pressed a hand to his own aching arm, trying to come up with a plan that was a little less stupid. Failing that, he stomped to the barn door, swung it wide and stepped back as the cows began to shuffle out into the rain. Ezra circled around and unlatched the fence gate closest to town.

Both lawmen stepped back and waited. The cows bunched together, mooing unhappily and eyeing entrance back into the nice dry barn.

"Giddyup, cows," Ezra hissed, flapping a hand at the heifer closest to the gate. "Run! Go!"

The cows lowered their heads and started munching on the soggy grass. Larabee tilted his head skyward in resignation, sending a small waterfall of runoff trickling down the neck of his coat.

Unholstering his gun, he glanced over at the gambler.

"Ready?" he asked, pointing the gun in the air.

Before he could pull the trigger, a bolt of lightning snaked down and the tree next to the corral exploded in a shower of sparks and splinters and a deafening clap of thunder that sent the all reeling. Bellowing in fright, the cattle took to their heels, bolting through the gate and heading straight toward town.

_11) "Not with a bang, but with a whimper" - Flah7_

The Brown Swiss bolted free of the muddy corral. With a few bucks, strings of flatulence and flagging tails, the doe-eyed dished-faced cows bolted for the road.

Townspeople started to scatter, slipping and sliding in the mud, some going to their knees, others pulling their neighbors to the side of the lane.

The first of the dairy cows noticed the lush green spring grass that lined the lane. They slowed their ungainly gallop and eventually petered to a curious stop. The flatulence slowed, and swinging swollen udders that had briefly swung left and right became still.

With less than frantic moos, the Brown Swiss settled fell into line and began to pull and chew the sweet green grass.

Rain continued to fall, thunder rolled over head and lightning flashed across the sky.

Brown Swiss dotted the lane with heads down and tails swishing.

The billy goat chased the bank teller into the dike.

_12) "Old habits die hard" - Tipper_

Chris and Ezra ran along at the tail end of the stampede, keeping low, hidden amongst the slower cattle. Ezra had taken off the sling and the red coat to blend better (even though it was mostly covered in mud now) and his hat, and Chris had pulled his off as well, to make themselves less obvious as they escaped.

Between the rain, the cows, and the lightning, they were across the street and hidden in an alleyway next to the livery without anyone seeing them. They were only a few feet away their horses, a few feet away from leaving this damned town. Although, in this weather, riding out in this twisting, turning rain was beginning to look more dangerous than hanging around.

Chris glanced at Ezra, leaning against the wall next to him, breathing hard. With the gambler's hat off, Chris was able to see the blood running down the side of the man's neck for the first time, the rainwater causing it to swirl in ringlets.

And knew why Ezra had been close to fainting in the street this morning.

He grabbed the man's arm, and before Ezra could protest, grabbed his chin to turn his head, getting a good look at the side of his head. Blood was caked in the man's hair, over a gash that, while it might have stopped bleeding once, was open once more.

"What the hell is that?" Chris demanded.

"What the hell is what?" Ezra asked tiredly.

"Your head!"

"Oh." Ezra winced. "That. Now that you know, mind not shouting?"

"You weren't bleeding when we came in last night, when you were checked out by the doc for that damn trick shoulder of yours."

"That's because it happened later."

"Later?"

"You went to sleep. I stayed up. Played poker. Met a man whosaid things. Then there was a bar brawl, and a bottle of whiskey smashed against my head." Ezra blinked. "Can we talk about this after we escape? My head is splitting, I'm cold, there are many, many people after us who think we killed their sheriff, and someone is trying to kill you."

Chris frowned. "Why didn't youWait, what? What did you say?"

Ezra lifted his head, his eyes strikingly pale in the dim light. A lightning bolt streaked across the sky above, making the gambler's face almost white.

"I said," Ezra repeated, "that someone is trying to kill you." He blinked slowly. "The man who said things, said things about you. And me. Mostly about how I should avoid getting in the way next time, if I knew what was good for me." He frowned then. "Why the hell do you think I was trying so hard you get you to leave town?"

Chris' eyes widened. "The riflemanhe was after me? Why? And why the hell would you think running was better than facing him?"

Ezra smirked. "Because he doesn't want to face you. He just wants to kill you. And when I find out someone's gunning for me, I tend to run." He tried to shrug and winced slightly, gripping at the sore shoulder. He snorted a laugh then, looking up at Chris again. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

_13) "Trial and Error" - Sablecain_

Neville Wild watched the chaos in the street below and cursed under his breath. People and animals roamed everywhere and in the mix, he'd lost sight of Larabee. If only that damn gambler would stay out of the way. Twice now the man had managed to get in the way of his revenge. Wild growled, spinning away from the window, he knocked the whiskey bottle over. Ignoring it, he quickly reloaded his rifle, fumbled for his pack and hurried from the room. The hallway was dark and deserted, no one around to hide from, but Wild stuck close to the wall as he headed down the back stairs just in case.

He'd seen the townsfolk chasing Larabee and Standish after the Sheriff's shooting. He was almost tempted to leave them to the lynch mob, but his need for revenge wouldn't let him take the chance that Larabee might escape again.

Wild made it to the base of the stairs and the back door, kicking it open, rifle raised, he managed to startle a donkey. The animal brayed angrily at him but moved away, warily. Rain instantly soaked Wild, as he strode through the muddy alleyway behind the saloon. He knew if Larabee and Standish had any smarts about them they'd be trying to make their way toward the livery.

Patting his waterproof pack reassuringly, Wild smiled knowingly at the contents shifting beneath his hands. It'd be a cold day in hell before he'd let Larabee get away again. Shooting the bastard hadn't worked so he'd just have to move on to his next plan. One way or another, Larabee was going to die today.

_14) "Don't look now" - NotTasha_

"Can we go now?" Ezra asked wearily.

Chris sighed, Ezra truly did not look good, what with the mud and the blood and his pallid complexion beneath it all. Not getting an answer, the gambler turned to him, and fixed him with a pleading eye.

"No," Larabee responded.

Ezra groaned. "Why did I know you'd say that? And how, pray tell, should escape the mob and the shooter and the atrocious weather and the asses?" He gestured one handedly to a donkey that loped past, braying as if annoyed.

"The others are coming."

"They're not here yet," Ezra responded.

"They'll come," Chris assured. He watched as the donkey disappeared into the rain. People still milled in the street, searching. He leaned out a little further from the alley, wishing that the rest of the crowd would clear out. It was only a matter of time before someone tried the livery in their search.

Ezra suddenly leaned against him, mumbling, "My head hurts explosively."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice as he offered one arm to keep the gambler upright the other hand kept his peacekeeper steady.

"If I did explain it all to you, you would want to stand your ground and fight the son of a bitch, when all wisdom said it was time to flee. Am I right? Since that wouldn't work, I set out this morning to find the fool and set him straight. That failed miserably."

Chris scowled, continuing to watch the street, waiting for their chance.

"Don't look now," Ezra stated as he straightened, "But here comes trouble."

And Chris turned in time to see a man with a rifle and a pack move toward them. And from somewhere up the street a townsperson shouted, and people started running.

_15) "Three strikes" - J Brooks_

"Larabee!" Neville howled, weaving down the middle of the street, waving an object he'd just pulled out of the lumpy pack.

The lawmen risked a quick glance around the corner of the alley and let out a simultaneous groan,

"Dynamite," Ezra spat, slumping back against the stable's exterior wall. "Well now my day is complete."

As the townsfolk scattered, Neville staggered sideways into a saloon and touched the dynamite's fuse to the nearest lantern, then tottered back out into the rain juggling dynamite, rifle and pack awkwardly in his arms.

The lit fuse sputtered in the downpour and went out.

The drunken shooter gave the sodden dynamite a disgusted look, tossed it aside and reached into his bag for a replacement. Retracing his steps to the lantern, he lit the second stick and headed back into the rain, taking a little more care this time to shield the flame.

"Prepare to meet St. Peter, Larabee!" Neville howled, waggling the dynamite in the general direction of the stables. He raised it on high and gave it an almighty lob only to have the explosive slip through his fingers and fly into the street behind.

The dynamite landed with a wet plop, spitting white sparks, right at the feet of particularly rotund cow.

The animal eyed the hissing object with mild interest and lowered her head for an experimental nibble.

"Moo-?" she began.

The dynamite exploded, sending mud and ground beef showering down on the stunned townsfolk, who started shrieking and scattering in earnest.

Larabee and Ezra exchanged a flabbergasted glance. Neville, undeterred, picked himself up off the ground, brushed something unsavory out of his hair, fished around in his bag for a third time, and repeated the procedure with the saloon lantern. He stomped closer to the livery, the sparks from the fuse glowing red-hot through the rain.

"Ezra," Larabee said, grabbing the gambler by the collar and giving him a shove toward the back of the alley and whatever lay beyond. "I'm starting to think you had the right idea in the first place RUN!"

An arc of bright light spiraled through rain heading straight toward the alley. On the third attempt, Neville's dynamite sped toward its target with uncanny, and entirely accidental, accuracy.

The lawmen dove for cover as the world exploded in noise and flame.

_16) "Only in my dreams" - Flah7_

Something warm and wet tickled over his lips. Larabee moaned crinkling his brow. He raised a heavy mud-covered hand and swapped lazily at the warm tongue and lips that nibbled at the corner of his mouth.

He wished whichever saloon girl he took back with him would stop. His head pounded, his stomach rolled and he just wasn't up to any more carnal pleasures at the moment. Wherever that was.

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra's voice was unmistakable.

Pictures of a purple dress sprang to Larabee's muddled mind. He suddenly sat up. His head exploded as his stomach erupted. He twisted to the side, his elbow sinking further into upturned mud and vomited; onto the furry small hoofs of a curious donkey.

It brayed its displeasure, and nudged the gunslinger with its long eared head.

"Mr. Larabee, I do not believe we should be dilly-dallying here with your new acquaintance."

"Shut up, Ezra."

"His satchel may not be empty." Standish slowly climbed to unsteady feet. Mud caked his clothing, plastering it his skin. It was terribly uncomfortable.

Their dynamite toting assailant was nowhere to be seen.

777777777777777

Buck, Vin and Nathan had heard the explosions. They rounded the bend in the muddy lane at a gallop. Mud splatter dotted the horses' chests and underbellies. The threesome suddenly hauled back on their reins, pulling the horses to a stuttering stop. The horses sat back on their haunches and slid to a halt in the middle of the road.

Just down the short lane lay a barn and yard in ruin. Broken fences, gates hanging by a single hinge and torn up grass marked untold mayhem.

A chicken roosted in a low lying branch watching them with an unblinking dark eye.

"Looks like they didn't make it far from town," Buck pulled his serape a little tighter over his coat to keep out the rain.

"Reckon not," Vin agreed.

A large tan and white goat trotted by, worrying at something dangling from its mouth.

"That goat chewing on a trouser pocket?" Nathan asked.

Buck shrugged. "Don't look like nuthin' Ezra would wear."

Somewhere out of sight, a donkey heehawed followed by the unmistakable sound of another explosion.

_17) "Between a rock and a hard place" - Sablecain_

Ezra was thrown into Chris with the next explosion, sending both men back down into the alley's boardwalk as wreckage from the two buildings forming came down on top of them. The rain continued to pour as water pooled beneath them. Ezra groaned and tried to push himself off of Larabee's legs, but shouted as a wave of pain hit him squarely across his left leg. He was pinned.

"Ezra, get off me!" Larabee pushed at Standish, adding to the agony shooting up through Ezra's leg. They were under even more rubble. It was hard to move.

"I can't," Ezra growled back. "I'm pinned."

"What?" Chris managed to get his elbows beneath him, managing to shove the closest debris aside, finding himself still rather cocooned in the mess.

He twisted his upper body up enough to look down the length of Ezra's body. The southerner was sprawled across the lower half of Chris' own legs. It was hard to tell what else trapped him under all the splintered beams.

"Great." Chris flopped back down with a frustrated sigh, groaning as the displaced mound of broken boards fell back into place on top of him, and another wave of nausea passed though him.

They laid there for a moment, rain dripping down through the cracks and crevices of the debris that buried them.

"What's that?" Ezra broke the silence.

"Rain?" Chris offered.

"No, no. That sound."

Chris listened another moment. "Probably another damn jackass."

But the sound was growing louder now. Someone was digging them out.

The pile above them shifted, more broken bits of wood rained down. "Hey!" Chris shouted, worrying over Ezra's lack of complaining. "Take it easy or you'll bring the whole thing down on us!"

A space cleared above him allowing the rain to assault him with renewed force.

The scowling face of their assailant appeared above him. The man's hat was missing and his thinning hair was plastered messily to his long forehead. His eyes danced with a deranged glee as he aimed his rifle into the hole at Chris. "You really think I care?"

**_To be continued_**


	2. Part 2

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 2**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette

_Thanks so much for the reviews. We're all enjoying them so much!_

_18) "In case of emergency, break glass" - NotTasha_

Buck, Nathan and Vin hunched into their collars as exploded bits of building rained down, and the ladies' man uttered a heartfelt, "Son of a bitch!"

About a dozen horses bolted from town, heading in the opposite direction and Buck was fairly certain he saw Chris' big black among them. Cattle calloyed as they collided down the street. An ass barged past their little group, looking tight-lipped and thoroughly put-out. Chickens squawked, trying in spite of centuries of controlled evolution to fly. The birds managed to get little higher than a man's height, and battered the terrorized townspeople about the heads and shoulders in their terror.

Some of the townspeople gripped rifles; a few held pitchforks; one young fellow - with a fluttering Rhode Island Red on his shoulder - was wildly swinging a pendulum from a grandfather clock in the chaos.

The three swung down from their saddles, trying to calm their mounts as bits and pieces of the town's best livery and the adjoining saddle shop clattered and rattled and shattered down on them, mixed with the relentless rain. Buck and Nathan slung their wet serapes from their shoulders and onto their saddles as they searched about for any sign of their friends.

"Hell," Vin, muttered, "Looks like Chris and Ezra have gotten themselves into more trouble than usual."

"Explosion came from that way," Nathan said, unnecessarily. He pointed toward the wreckage near the center of town. A man was climbing into the mess, digging through it. "We'd best join him. I figure that's where we'll find Chris and Ezra."

"Chris? You mean 'Larabee'?" one of the townspeople remarked as he turned toward them. "Chris Larabee?"

"We're lookin' for him," Buck explained. "He and Standish are friends of ours. We need to find 'em."

"They're friends with Larabee!" the man shouted. "They're with the man who shot our sheriff!"

And the townsfolk, who had finally managed to avoid the exodus of animals and falling debris, turned toward them and started to advance, menacingly.

"Get 'im!" the young man with the chicken shouted.

"What the hell?" Buck exclaimed and turned about, trying to figure out how to escape without having to actually shoot any of them. There was nowhere to go the three were trapped against the big pane window for the dressmaker's shop. They pulled their weapons and held their ground. "Damn," Buck muttered.

Someone in the back of the group sent up a startled shout. The again-terrified crowd parted like the Red Sea, and a big black bull charged through them and straight at the three men in front of the dressmaker's shop.

Buck, Vin and Nathan had nowhere to go except straight behind them.

_19) "Where the Wild Things Are" - Tipper_

"Wait!" Chris yelled, raising a hand towards the crazy looking rifleman.

Wild pulled the triggerand nothing happened.

"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling the rifle back. "Stupid bullets!" He cracked open the empty bullet chamber and scowled. He started fishing in his pockets and, unfortunately, fresh copper bullets slipped out across his fingers.

Chris breathed out heavily, and patted around for his own gun.

Nothing. He swore softly, and looked up at Wild. He had to buy time.

"At least tell me who the hell you are!" he demanded.

Wild hesitated, wiping away the driving rain from his face with his sleeve, and glared down at Larabee.

"Don't you know, you wife-stealing, son of a bitch?"

Chris blinked. Wife-stealing? He felt Ezra tremble slightly, and looked gambler was actually giggling. Chris grimaced, and looked up again.

"You're gonna have to be more specific, Mister."

"Wild," the man snarled. "The name's Neville Wild. You saying that don't ring a bell, you adulterous, tick-faced bastard?"

"Not really."

"My wife's name was Delilah. She went by Lily. And you were the ugly piece of shit that poisoned her against me!"

Chris's gaze narrowed. Lily Wild? Sounded like a whore's name. "I"

"You took her away! Told her I was a drunk and a bastard and that I weren't allowed to discipline my own wife when she cheated on me! You took her in the middle of the night, you mass of pus!"

Chris's eyes softened, as the memory of a beaten woman crying in his arms came to mind. She'd nearly been killed by her husband, beaten after he'd been drinking too hard. And he wasn't the only one. Chris had been so deep under the spell of whiskey at that time, he only remembered what had happened in patches. He'd tried to protect her, to get her away, trying to save her where he had failed to save Sarah. He'd carried her out of town on his horse, nothing but the clothes on her back, in the middle of the night. He'd wanted to get her to the next town, to safety. He couldn't remember if he'd succeed.

He realized Ezra had stopped laughing.

"You took her away from me," Neville whispered, slotting in the last fresh bullet into his rifle. He lifted it and pointed it down at the Larabee's head, still swaying drunkenly, but no one could miss at that range. "And now you're gonna pay."

Luckily, that's when Ezra apparently remembered he too carried a gun.

_20) "Avatar" - J Brooks_

The bull charged, huffing and snorting - saliva flying. Without taking his eyes off the charging beast or the mob, Vin unholstered his mare's leg and cracked it against the plate glass window behind him.

The big pane cracked, held for a moment, then shattered, cascading down like a jagged waterfall. The bull pulled up short, confused by the sound and the splintering glass. It snorted again, snorted longer, and inhaled long and deep and raised its snout to the air. And then, almost as if it had a sudden and awfully fine idea, it turned tail, and headed after a little group of cows that waited demurely by the roadside.

The crowd let out a rumble and surged forward, only to stop short when Buck and Nathan cocked their weapons warningly.

Vin swung his gun around to cover the mob as well, even as he carefully stepped over the display window sill and into the dim floral-scented interior of the dress shop.

"Fellas?" he murmured, and Buck and Nathan slowly maneuvered backward to join him. Buck let out a hiss of pain as he brushed against a jagged shard of glass that sliced deeply into his arm.

Glancing around the shop interior, Vin took stock. Shelves crowded with bolts of shiny, frilly, floral fabric. Dressmakers' dummies clustered about the shop floor, modeling the latest fashions from back east. The front door would lead them right back out to the mob.

There had been no new explosions for several minutes now, and that made him almost as nervous as the detonations had.

"Come out and face us, yella bellies!" a voice squawked from the street outside. Within seconds, the townsfolk with rifles had opened fire on the shop.

The three lawmen dived for the floor as bullets ripped through the open window and punched into the walls and display shelves inside, sending torn fabric swirling around like some bizarre colorful snowstorm.

Vin covered his head as a shelf above his head shattered, raining spools of thread down upon him.

Craning his neck, he continued his survey. There was a narrow hallway behind the sales counter that probably led to the back door. Unfortunately, to reach it, they'd have to cross directly in front of the window.

The pendulum from a grandfather clock hurtled into the shop like a thrown hatchet. Nathan rolled to avoid it and bumped into the nearest dummy, which wobbled, tilting toward the window. The shots from outside immediately shifted, biting into the mannequin from all angles.

The perforated dummy crashed to the floor and there was a pause in the gunfire outside. A few of the braver souls edged up to the window, craning to see who they'd hit. Vin fired off a few shots over their heads and they quickly fell back. He didn't want to have to hurt these idiots. Unless they'd done something to Chris or Ezra. Then all bets were off.

Something moved beside him. He turned to see Buck crawling on his elbows toward the nearest mannequin, blood streaming down his right arm, but a demented grin shining out from behind his mustache.

Buck grabbed the mannequin around its skirted ankles and hugged it tight.

Nathan squinted through the dim light. "Buck," he sighed. "This really ain't the time."

"Not as lively as your usual lady friends," Vin drawled, blinking as Buck began inching across the floor again, the dummy scooting along with him, drawing a fresh hail of gunfire as he made his careful way toward the back exit.

The mannequin jerked about as the bullets found their targets, but held together, the stylish feathered cap on its featureless head still tilted at a jaunty angle.

"Don't come much livelier!" Buck hooted, his voice muffled by the mannequin's crinolines.

Vin and Nathan exchanged a grin, grabbed the nearest dummies and followed after him.

_21) "(Forest) Fire" - Flah7_

The threesome carefully made their way toward the back exit, mannequins jerking and snapping about.

Buttons dotted the worn dust-covered floor. Bolts of material were scattered throughout the store. They leaned haphazardly against walls, tipped to the side or unfurled, stopped only by a wall or corner. Spools of thread rolled willy-nilly about, crisscrossing the floor over bullet casings, broken glass and clumps of mud.

The mob converged on the store. Long-legged homesteaders stepped through the broken window. Mud-covered boots crunched on shards of glass.

The more refined citizens strode through the dangling door, brandishing hot barreled rifles and pistols. The young man, with the perching Rhode Island Red, retrieved his slightly dinged pendulum. He twirled it smartly in one hand. The curve nearly shaved the bartender's whiskers.

Mr. Connelly took one last draw on his ragged, bent cigar. The end flared a sharp red before dimming slightly. He slipped it from his mouth, contemplated it a moment and then flicked it absently into the far corner.

It rolled and then settled next to an unraveled bolt of material. The fine cotton threads of the corn yellow and blue fabric smoked and curled. A small ember quickly crawled along the strand to the frayed hem of the cloth. The short fiber sparked to flame.

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Ezra fumbled for his Remington, trying hard not to jostle his throbbing shoulder. He kept his eye on Mr. Neville, a seemingly unstable man if one was to be had.

Neville curled a muddy middle finger around the trigger. It was then Ezra noticed that Mr. Neville had not only lost his mind at some point in his life, but had also lost his trigger finger.

Neville suddenly furrowed his brow and sniffed. He sniffed again, raising his head.

"Do you smell smoke?" He looked over his shoulder, "I smell smoke."

Ezra's fingers quietly closed around the hidden stock of his Remington.

Somewhere, someone shouted, "Fire!"

_22) "Paranoia/paranoid" Sablecain_

Vin, Buck and Nathan abandoned their abused dressmaker dummies, leaving the now shredded doppelgangers as fuel for the growing fire as the three of them scurried out the back door and down the alley way. They could hear the townspeople shouting and stomping around inside the shop while others obviously had abandoned the building the same way they had entered it.

In unspoken agreement, the trio hurried around behind the shop toward the center of town and the pile of debris they feared they would find Chris and Ezra under. As they came around the corner of the building, they pulled up short.

"What's he doing?" Nathan asked in a whisper. He glanced anxiously behind them as a roar exploded from the burning dressmaker's shop. A portion of the roof had just caved in, but the fire was smoking heavily now as the rain had better access.

The man, who at first appeared to be helping extract Chris and Ezra, stood atop the pile of wood and beams, his gun half pointed down into the wreckage even as he stared distractedly back at the burning building.

"You there!" Buck hollered.

The man turned toward them, readjusting his aim and firing.

Vin shouted as the bullet clipped his side, spinning him back into Nathan.

"Dang!" Buck fired back at the man as he helped Nathan drag Vin back around the shelter of the burning building. "Call me paranoid, but I don't think he's here to help!"

_23) "The female of the species is more deadly than the male" - Tipper_

Buck managed to nick the stranger in the shoulder, and he staggered backwards. Another shot, and the man went downbut not for the count.

"Damn," Buck muttered as his gun clicked on empty, and the stranger rolled onto his side, pulled another gun, and started firing anew. A bullet whizzed past Buck's ear, and he took that as a sign to get the hell down.

He ducked down behind a chunk of rubble, clutching at his arm where the glass had sliced into it, and watched through a gap between the chunks of wood.

The stranger rolled a bit more, scrabbled to his feet, and ducked around a corner, out of sight. Blowing the air out of his cheeks, Buck glanced at Nathan and Vin a few feet away, Nathan pressing a cloth to Vin's side. The tracker was hissing in pain, and glaring at his wound as if his body was somehow to blame for him getting shot. At least he didn't look like he was dying, which was a good thing.

"You okay, Buck?" Nathan shouted across to him, eyes fixed on where the blood seeped through clutched fingers.

"Just a scratch," Buck assured, then raised his voice as he shouted, "Chris!" into the rain and wind, not wanting to risk raising his head up again into firing range until he had to. "Ezra!"

"Still here!" Chris shouted back, sounding a bit strained. "I need a gun andohthanks, Ezra. Took you long enough. Forget the gun, I got Ezra's."

"What the hell is goin' on, Chris?"

"That guy shot the sheriff. Almost took out Ezra. Shot me. Blew up half the town. And now we're trapped under here."

"Why're the townsfolk mad at ya?"

"'Cause they think we shot the sheriff."

"Why?"

"Does it matter? Just go get that guy! He's the bad guy!"

"Right." Buck looked at Vin and Nathan. The former nodded, and took over holding onto the bandage from Nathan. Buck pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and did his best to fashion a bandage for himself.

"I'll be fine," Vin said. "Go on. I'll see what I can do about getting Chris and Ez out."

Nathan sighed, but stood, pulling his gun. "Don't think we got much choice. But don't go killin' yourself trying."

"I won't."

Buck nodded, arched an eyebrow and then pointed behind the healer. "You go thataway. " He pointed behind himself. "I'll go thisaway. We'll try to flank the bad guy."

"Works for me," Nate replied, already turning and going. Buck smiled and scrabbled to the side of a small store, keeping low and aiming for the far alleyway. After checking to make sure it was empty, he jogged down the alley, and then peeked around the far corner to the back.

Not seeing anyone, he stepped out and jogged over to some crates next to the back door of the store, keeping low and watching all the possible hiding places in the vicinity. That stranger couldn't have gone.

A rifle pressed against the back of his head. _Shit_.

He turned his head slowly, trying to see over his shoulder. "Look, mister," he began, "I don't know why you're trying to ki" He stopped talking when he caught sight of skirts. Fluffy, bright yellow, skirts. "Uhhello?"

"Not one more move, cowboy," a woman hissed. "I watched you and your friends from the window up yonder, and saw what you did to my store. Name's Pandora, and you owe me and my sister Mary one new dressmaker's shop."

_24) "Deja vu" - NotTasha_

Nathan traveled along the path that Buck had indicated, going vaguely '_thataway_'. He hated leaving Vin alone while he was ailing, and having Buck up and moving with that nasty gash - the man definitely needed stitching - but there was little choice in the matter. Chris and Ezra were in a world of trouble and a mad-man was on the loose.

The man was shooting at people and blowing up anything in his way. He and the others had to bring the shooter down before anyone else was hurt.

Jackson swung behind a couple of barrels as a human shape appeared before him. He ducked down and held his weapon ready.

"I saw ya go on in there," the shape drawled, "and you better come on out. Ya'all are with Larabee - that fella which killed the sheriff, ain't cha?"

"He didn't shoot your sheriff," Nathan stated emphatically, keeping his head below the level of the barrels, and not lowering his revolver. "He didn't do it!"

"Ya don't say?" the man stepped into Nathan's view, coming around the barrels that formed his stronghold. "And why do ya think that?" He was a quiet looking man, with straw blond hair and a narrow face. He held his gun steady as he aimed at Jackson.

"Cause he said as much, and I believe him," Nathan returned, standing slowly.

The two men regarded each other as the rain continued to fall while Pandora 'n Mary's dress shop snapped and crackled in the fire and nothing else immediately exploded. Neither of them lowered their aim. Rain ran down in rivulets from Nathan's hat. The other man's straw hair was matted down like a helmet. His steel blue eyes stayed fixed on Nathan's darker ones.

"Well." The man drew out the word as if it had four syllables. "Imagine that." His gun remained pointed at Nathan. Jackson kept his gun aimed as well. The man continued, "I have a pretty good idea of who actually may've... ACK!"

Nathan heard the shot and ducked, but the other man reacted differently, performing a tight pirouetted as he snapped a hand to his chest. He clutched the spreading stain on his shirt as he watched Nathan's face - his eyes wide.

It was then that Jackson noticed the star pinned on the man's vest. Nathan reached forward to grasp hold of the man, but he could already tell it was too late - the life was leaving his eyes, and the man fell with a clatter to the boardwalk.

"The deputy!" someone else shouted! "They just shot the deputy?"

Nathan turned and ran.

_25) "Rock, Paper, Scissors" - J Brooks_

Buck pivoted slowly toward the enraged duo of dressmakers. The rifle barrel stayed pressed against his head the entire time, scraping slowly from the back of his neck, catching painfully on his left ear and coming to rest finally just under his nose.

He took a small step back, trying to put some distance between the cold steel and his mustache. Pandora, her sister glaring balefully over her shoulder, advanced, jamming the gun even harder into his face.

Buck did his best to smile around it.

"Ladies," he cooed. "I surely do understand why you're upset with ol' Buck right now..." He broke off, swallowing hard as Pandora huffed and shifted the gun until its barrel was jammed under his chin, forcing his head to tilt painfully toward the sky.

"A prettier little shop I never did see in my life," Buck pressed on, rolling his eyes to study the sisters, looking for any signs of a softening in that homicidal glint in their eyes. "The minute I laid eyes on the place I knew that all those pretty frocks had to be made by a pair of real pretty girls..."

A metallic snipping sound cut him off. Mary the dressmaker stepped out from behind her sister, brandishing a pair of sharp steel fabric shears in each hand. She was scrawny, with limp dishwater hair, wearing a lime-green satin dress that clashed hideously with her sallow complexion. Her nose was chapped and runny. She let out an explosive sneeze, scrubbed at her face with her sleeve and glared at Buck, opening and closing the scissors a few times in warning. Snip snip snip.

Buck talked faster. "Lovely as a field of morning wildflowers, those dresses. And I hope you ladies realize that we never would have raised a finger against your merchandise."

Mary stepped closer, let out an explosive sneeze, and sneered at him. Snip snip snip went the scissors, moving closer.

"Doggone it, we didn't burn your shop down!" Buck yelped, his hands moving down to cover the territory Mary seemed to be aiming for.

Pandora's rifle shifted until it was targeting the real estate below the belt as well.

Buck cringed, and then went flying as someone plowed into him from behind.

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Nathan ran, weaving through the rain, trying to draw the mob away from the pile of rubble where Larabee and Standish were trapped.

"Ow!" he yelped as a rock, hurled by somebody in the mob, bounced off his shoulder. More rocks followed, most of them flying wild and shattering windows up and down the street. The townsfolk must have used up most of their ammunition blowing the dress shop to kingdom come.

Nathan risked a glance around, trying to get his bearings. He couldn't just run in circles all day. He needed to ditch these idiots and -

A jagged hunk of rock caught him in the temple with enough force to drop him to his knees as his vision dimmed to swirling stars for a moment. Dimly, he heard the mob roar and surge toward him. His dazed mind called up images of another day, and another mob and the feel of a rough hemp rope biting into his neck as he dangled from a cemetery tree. _*No!*_

He staggered to his feet and blundered down the alley, blood streaming from his temple to soak his collar.

He didn't notice Buck or the ladies in the garish dresses until he crashed into them, knocking the lot of them into the mud in a tangle of crinolines and gun barrels.

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"Right," Vin said with a sigh, clambering up the pile of debris that trapped his friends. The torn muscles and cracked ribs cramped in protest and he leaned against a shattered support beam, breathing hard and taking stock of the mess around him.

One side of the livery wall had crashed down on his friends. He could see the remaining frightened horses prancing nervously in their stalls, but no sign of Chris or Ezra's mounts.

The dynamite had knocked a great crater in the building opposite - the town newspaper, judging by all the papers lying in soggy heaps in the mud and the tangled wreckage of what looked like a printing press. Vin shook his head. What kind of monster blew up a newspaper office?

"Vin?" Larabee's impatient-sounding voice filtered up through the debris and got Vin moving again.

With a grunt, he shifted a few beams and was rewarded by the sight of a Remington, clutched in scraped, bleeding knuckles, reaching for daylight, followed by a black coat sleeve, a shoulder, and finally Chris Larabee's top half.

Larabee squinted at the bloody bandage pressed against Vin's ribcage as he heaved himself out of the hole. The tracker shrugged off the unasked question, and gazed toward the bleeding gash across Larabee's arm. He turned his attention back to the wreckage.

"C'mon up, Ezra. Ain't got all day," Chris called down, peering through the gloom at the gambler's too-pale face, glaring up at him from the bottom of the pile.

"Why, thank you for that timely suggestion," Ezra snapped, shoving at the beam that trapped his leg, then falling back with a discouraged grunt. "Ow," he voiced and clutched at one shoulder.

Vin could clearly see the blood tracking down the side of his head. Ezra closed his eyes, his words starting to slur. "I was having such a delightful time here in my bed of mud and splinters, the thought of leaving never would have..." His voice trailed off.

"Ezra?" Larabee snapped, holstering his gun and tearing into the debris pile, tossing wreckage in every direction. Vin joined him, pausing from time to time to look around. Something nagged at him, a warning prickle at the back of his neck.

A sudden hiss and a flare of light brought him spinning around, mare's leg leveled. In the shattered wreckage of the newspaper office, back-lit by the light of the burning shop across the street, stood Neville Wild.

He was holding yet another burning stick of dynamite in his hands. Sparks spit and fell from the fuse, setting the papers on the floor at his feet smoldering.

"Not dead yet?" he said. "We'll soon take care of that."

_26) "Count me in!" - Flah7_

"Gosh, Josiah, do you think it could rain any harder?" JD snugged his coat tighter to his chest, rolling his shoulders.

"40 days and 40 nights more powerfully," Sanchez muttered. He tried hard not to shoot an accusatory glare at the young sheriff.

"Why do you think the Judge sent us off to find Buck and the others?" JD swung in his seat searching the surrounding territory with a wary eye.

Josiah bit his tongue. Judge Travis was a righteous, stern, fair man of the law. He was also just a man and could only take so much of Mr. Dunne's enthusiasm. Apparently, not even a few hours.

Since Buck, Vin and Nathan departure from town in search of Larabee and Standish, JD had been persistent in his inquiries and constant chatter - his excitement.

Josiah had found amusement in the constant chatter that buzzed around the judge. Young JD was like a worrisome mosquito. Sanchez had kept his distance and own counsel and hid within his church and the saloon late at night. That might have been a mistake.

It was all fun and games and hilarity until Judge Travis strongly suggested that JD and Josiah hit the trail in search of their fellow law men. The judge would watch the town. He smiled slyly at Josiah and sent the two law men on their way.

They had been on the trail too long. The persistent rain changed only in the speed in which it fell. Despite the torrential rains, Josiah figured they should catch up to the other three sooner rather than later. In fact, he was surprised he had not caught them already.

Josiah was thoroughly soaked, his toes pruned and he chaffed.

Mr. Dunne had to be a test, a test not unlike the suffering of Job in the Hebrew bible.

"Josiah?" JD sat up straighter and tested the air. "You smell smoke?"

JD swung back and forward scenting the air, "I smell smoke." He sat back in saddle, seemingly unconcerned for how wet he was. His head swiveled left and right, eyes searching, nostrils flared. "Something big is burning. I think I see smoke." JD stood in his stirrups and learned forward, gaining only a few inches in his line of sight. "Definitely something big burning. Buck and Ezra must be close by."

A deep rumbling sound reached them.

"That was an explosion," Dunne stated. Awe mixed with wonder and a touch of worry.

Josiah sighed, 'why must he be tested'. "Probably just thunder, brother."

Another deep rolling percussion reached them. "No, that was definitely an explosion." JD sat abruptly back in his saddle and kicked his horse into a canter. "That's dynamite. Buck and Vin must have caught up with Ezra and Chris!

Josiah took a deep breath and raised his face to the sky. "Why me, Lord? What have I done recently to deserve this?"

**_To be continued_**


	3. Part 3

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 3**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette

_Sorry for the delay in posting. Hope you enjoy this next section_

_27) "Bantos Rods (fighting sticks)"- Sablecain_

Vin stared at the crazed man atop the rubble of the newspaper building, his aim not wavering as the lunatic waved the lit dynamite about. Tanner debated shooting the fool, but feared the dynamite would go flying and kill them all regardless.

"Yer all gonna die now! How do you like that, Larabee?"

"Hey, Cowboy?" Vin asked calmly, his grip tightening on his mare's leg.

"What?" Chris growled from below.

"What the hell did you do to this guy anyway? Kill his brother?"

The wild man must have heard the question. "Larabee stole my woman!"

In spite of himself, Vin grinned. "You sure you ain't looking for Buck Wilmington?"

Neville Wild screamed and hurled the stick of dynamite at Vin.

Tanner watched the stick flip through the air twice before landing with a loud plop in a growing puddle of water running through the torn up alley. The fuse flickered twice and fizzled, but stayed lit even as the dynamite bobbed down the way and disappeared around the corner and into the street.

Everything seemed to stop as they watched and waited. After a moment there was a low, rumbling explosion. The earth shook and townspeople could be heard screaming, but the men in the alley were unaffected.

Vin glanced back at Wild, expecting the man to start shooting at him again, but instead Neville began pawing through the rubble, suddenly coming up with what looked like broom stick that'd lost its end. With a sly grin, Wild snapped the stick over his knee and began to wave the two pieces about his head and body.

Vin frowned and cocked his head to the side, dumbfounded.

"What's going on?" Chris demanded.

"This guy's swinging sticks around. Must have lost his gun?" Vin had never seen anything like it. The sticks twirled and whirled through the rain and the wind in almost hypnotic patterns. "For an big guy, he's kind of graceful," Tanner admitted, then he realized that Wild was climbing down off the collapsed building and advancing towards him.

"Drop your gun and fight me fair and square. You can't protect Larabee. I will be vindicated!" Wild ranted above the rain and the whooshing sticks.

Vin's side twinged painfully even as he thought about it, then he shook his head. "To hell with that," he raised his weapon and fired.

_28) "Immunity" - NotTasha_

Neville had managed to position himself just below a swaying sign at the front of the blown-out newspaper office. The sign creaked and swayed on its post, only half attached after the explosion. And, with unerring accuracy, Vin's shot blew through the only chain that still kept the sign aloft. The heavy board came crashing down, missing Neville by a cat's whisker.

"Nuts," Vin grumbled as he reloaded and Neville scuttled away, laughing. The man was insane, and all Vin's teachings among the native people reminded him that it was bad luck to kill someone who wasn't right in the head. A 'touched-one' carried an aurora that exempted him from usual punishment. Tanner couldn't outright shoot the crazy son of a bitch, but a little coincidence of a falling sign might have done the job.

He frowned as Neville disappeared into the "Law Offices of Bond and Wolfe". He wanted to run after him, but his side felt as if it was about to tear him in two. He knew he wouldn't go far.

Neville had already been shot twice and showed no sign of slowing. He'd handled those sticks as if he wasn't hurt in the slightest. It might have been the drink keeping him going or the urge for revenge - but it was apparent that the man was powerful strong and terrible crazy.

Vin couldn't take him in his current state. Besides, something was wrong with Ezra.

Chris was obviously torn. He was still trying to dig the unresponsive Standish out of the haystack-sized wreckage, but Ezra remained stuck as Larabee's eyes tracked after Wild.

"Go get him," Vin told him. "I'll keep an eye on this one."

Chris tipped his head as a thank you as he stood. Clutching his wounded arm with one hand, he kept a grip on Ezra's Remington with the other, and ducked into the dim lawyers' office. Vin watched his unsteady gait, and hoped for the best.

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"Now, ladies," Buck crooned, shuffling out of Pandora's voluminous yellow skirts. Nathan was currently lost in Mary's yards of lime-green. "We can come to a reasonable conclusion, can't we?" And he oozed through the mud, away from the two stunned women as he clutched at his aching arm.

The rabble kept him from moving far.

"That one shot the deputy!" one voice shouted out of the rain, pointing a shaky finger at Nathan.

"No he didn't," another man returned. "I saw it. The shot came from yonder." And he gestured emphatically.

"But they're with Larabee!" the first man countered. "They're out to kill our lawmen!"

"And blow up the town!" a woman shrilled.

"And shoot up the place!" another woman added with an annoyed tone. "Just take a look at those holes."

"They made all our livestock run off!" someone else put in.

"Probably caused all this rain too," a young man stated glumly, looking upward and getting a face-full of wet for his action.

"I got the gout!" an old man grumbled.

"They burned out our dressmakers!" included a man lighting a big cigar. "That ain't right. 'Specially with Mary bein' so ill lately."

The crowd surrounded them, and Buck looked around cautiously. There were just too many people. He gave Nathan a kick because the man had barely moved from his nest in Mary's dress. The woman remained laid out, snuffling and twitching and clearing her throat with Nathan's face planted in her bosoms. Her scissors were plunged into the mud beside her.

"She looks darn horrible," a young man commented, swinging a pendulum at his side. He'd managed to finally knock the chicken off his shoulder, but Buck could see it peering out from around a nearby hitching post, ready for its next chance at assaulting the man. "I mean, she was never a looker to begin with, but gawd, Mary, you really let yourself go."

Pandora shot up and glared at the crowd. "Ain't her fault. She got a sickness from her trip to Boggy Creek. Been layin' her up real bad."

Someone from the back of the crowd shouted, "Boggy Creek? They got fever there!" And the whole congregation took a step back. They still clutched their stones and sticks, staying in close enough range to strike, but out of fair Mary's reach.

"Nate! Nate!" Buck called urgently as he moved back toward Jackson. "Nate! Get up! That lady you're usin' as a pillow might have some fever! You're gonna get it, too!"

"S'okay," Nathan returned, his face muffled by satin and Mary. "I got fevers as a child." He didn't really move, and Mary, who was quite awake now, didn't seem to be pushing him away. In fact, she seemed to be petting him and cooing softly.

Nate went on, "Had plenty of fevers over time. I don't catch colds no more." "Everything is fine," he added dreamily as they lay out in the mud as blood ran along one side of his head. The rain continuing to fall as the unhappy crowd formed a circle around them.

_29) "James Bond" - Tipper_

Chris stopped in the doorway of the office, partially protected behind the door and a large barrister's bookcase, eyes blinking into the dim light. With the rain pouring down outside, and, if possible, the sky getting darker above it, it was as close to night as you could get. The room was nearly pitch black, as a result

Sort of fitting for a law office.

"Wild," he called out, Ezra's gun gripped tightly in his shaking hand. His right arm was beginning to go numb, which was bad.

Something shifted off to the side behind the desk, and Chris pointed his gun at it.

"Come out," he ordered. "It's no good hiding, Wild."

"Don't shoot!" a voice whimpered weakly. "Please! Don't shoot."

Chris frowned, lowering the gun slightly.

A shiny bald head appeared, and soon a pair of very scared shining eyes, pupils nearly black in the rain-light. He stopped there, the rest of him staying hidden.

"Who're you?" Chris demanded.

"Bond!" the man replied. "James Bond!" His brow furrowed. "Who're you?"

"Larabee."

Bond's eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "Oh." He nodded again, more vigorously. "They say you shot the sheriff."

"I didn't." Chris trailed his gun across the rest of the room. He stopped when he finally spotted another door, and frowned.

"I know."

"Did you see another man run." Chris stopped abruptly, the other man's statement registering. He blinked and looked at Bond more appraisingly. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I said," Bond sniffed, "that I know."

"How?"

"Because I was spying on the sheriff earlier. I think my partner's been bribing him, so that he wins more cases. And since I'm the only other lawyer in town, and typically on the other side." Bond sniffed, looking very sad. "I mean, odds alone say I should be winning at least half the cases, right? But I'm not, so."

Chris frowned. "Right. Then you saw what happened with the sheriff?"

"Yeah."

"Then you know the guy I'm chasing is the one who shot the sheriff. "

"No."

"But"

"The person who shot the sheriff was my partner, Warlord Wolfe. I saw him take the shot when you all were pinned downtaking advantage of the situation, as always."

Chris just blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Saw it with my own two eyes," Bond promised, nodding vigorously. Chris wished he could see more of the man's face, so he could better tell if he were being lied to or not.

"Where's your partner now?"

"In the back room," Bond replied, pointing towards the far door with a shaking finger. "With the guy you're chasing. And, um," Bond smiled weakly. "There's another door leading out to the back of the building. They're probably long gone now."

Chris's gaze narrowed. _Not likely_, he thought darkly. He strode to the far door and pressed his ear to it. He didn't hear anything, but then, you never knew.

He glanced back at Bond, who was still watching him over the top of the desk, eyes still very shiny.

"Bond."

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor and try to stay alive for a while. You might start by ducking down again."

"Will do," the bald man replied, already disappearing from view.

Chris smirked, and then pressed his hand to the handle just as a streak of lightning lit up the room like a muzzle-flash. The storm was getting worse. Next boom he would hear would be thunderhe hoped.

_30) "Connections are made slowly; sometimes they grow underground" - J Brooks_

Buck swiped rainwater out of his eyes and tried to reason with the mob.

"Now you know we didn't shoot the deputy. Stands to reason we didn't shoot the sheriff either, right?" he peered hopefully around the ring of surly faces, looking for someone with a lick of sense.

Finding none, he gave Nathan a nudge with his boot. The healer just snuggled deeper onto the dressmaker's corseted bosom.

The mob had both ends of the alley blocked. No way out there, unless he wanted to shoot his way through a crowd of idiot civilians. Buck's eyes fell on the door of a root cellar almost hidden by Mary's ruffled skirts.

"Look," he tried again, reaching down and taking a good hold on Nathan's collar. "There's a crazy fella loose in your town with dynamite and the longer we stand here jawing, the more likely it is he's...gonna...?"

Buck's voice trailed off as all eyes turned to the storm water burbling down the alley gutter like a small stream - and the hissing stick of dynamite bobbing merrily on the tide.

The townsfolk let out a bellow of alarm and took to their heels. Buck hauled a protesting Nathan to his feet, yanked open the cellar door and shoved him down, then repeated the maneuver on the two shrieking seamstresses. He jumped in behind them just as another almighty blast went off.

The concussion threw him down the wooden stairs to land in a heap on something...huh. Not too uncomfortable. More comfortable than crinolines, anyway. He felt around the soft material until he hit the side of Nathan's head. The healer swatted his hands away with an irritated huff.

A dull red glow filtered through the cracks in the cellar door above as one of the buildings that bordered the alley ignited. Buck hoped it wasn't the building directly over their heads.

There was enough light for Buck to spot a lantern hanging from a wall peg nearby. After some fumbling, he managed to get it lighted and take a proper look around.

His jaw dropped.

"Why do you think we named the town Rock Hollow? The whole town's built on top of a natural system of caves and tunnels," Pandora said, glancing up from her attempts to pat her hair back into place. "They link just about every building in town. Make a wonderful storage space."

Her sister Mary was cooing over Nathan, whose head she had pulled back into her lap. Nathan beamed hazily, not opening his eyes. She patted at the bleeding head wound with a lace handkerchief, clucking and sniffling.

Buck turned in a slow circle, lantern raised high. The rock tunnels stretched as far as he could see in every direction, branching off and doubling back. Mundane piles of dry goods were heaped everywhere - crates, barrels, shelves of pickles and canned peaches, bolts of fabric and rolls of carpet like the pile Buck had landed on.

At regular intervals, there were rickety wooden staircases leading up to hollowed-out exits in the cave ceilings and cellar doors leading back out onto the street.

"Do you know if this leads to-" Buck started to ask.

He was cut off by the sound of a godawful crash, clatter, and muffled cursing echoing out of the darkness.

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Ezra blinked sluggishly, jolted awake by the distant explosion and the unpleasant sensation of water seeping into his ear canal.

Rain drops trickled down through the massive debris pile above him, dripping down onto his face maddeningly. He tried to shift out of the way, but hissed as his shoulder and pinned leg protested. In the dim light, he could make out the jagged shapes of broken boards and clapboard siding and torn bits of newspaper.

He frowned, knowing something was missing from the picture that ought to have been there.

"Chris?" he called, his voice a hoarse croak in his own ears. Hadn't Larabee been down here with him? In fact, hadn't he been *under* him? He had a distinct memory of Larabee's knees digging unpleasantly into his abdomen as the big lawman tried to wriggle out of their predicament. But things had gotten rather hazy after that.

"Mr. Larabee?" he tried again, louder this time. He gave a fretful shove at the wooden beam that was pinning his leg.

The wooden pile let out an ominous groan.

There was ruckus overhead, and Ezra hissed as the weight on his leg suddenly increased, then eased, as somebody clambered up the debris.

A large shadow appeared at the opening above, blocking the light as well as the rain. Ezra squinted up at the silhouette and tried to remember where he'd lost his guns.

A large hand reached down toward him, searching.

"Ezra?" a voice boomed down. The hand vanished and a small avalanche of debris went sliding off the pile. The hand stretched down again, closer now.

Josiah? Ezra blinked, What in blazes was Josiah doing here?

Tentatively, not quite trusting his senses, he stretched his good arm upward, trying to reach Josiah. Their fingertips were almost close enough to touch.

With one last warning creak, the wooden surface Ezra had been lying on gave way. Down he fell, into the darkness, with a small mountain of debris and Josiah Sanchez tumbling after.

_31) "Dinosaurs" - Flah7_

Buck squinted, trying to see beyond the storage crates, dry goods, and leaning ladders.

Beyond the dull glow of invading dying day light, muted by the rain, the tunnels became pitch black. A consuming darkness that seemed to devour light.

He made a move toward one of the tunnels just to his right. He held the lantern aloft and leaned forward. The thick blackness of the tunnel swallowed the light.

He stepped forward, curiosity dictating his moves. The sound of rain falling, the shouts of town people above, water running down through broken floors into the tunnels all seemed muted.

"I wouldn't go too deep into those tunnels," Pandora warned.

"Why's that?" Buck didn't bother turning his head when he spoke to her, but took another small step deeper into the cavern, away from the dry goods and lantern light.

"Pandora," Mary hissed with a glare of warning. She dabbed a little more rigorously at Nathan's head. The healer hissed in a breath and shied away, rolling his head into one ample breast.

"Why?" Buck asked. This time he did turn and give the two women a curious look.

"Well," Pandora stuttered looking to Mary and then the ground.

"There something back there?" Buck didn't like their body language.

"Just," Pandora muttered, "maybe."

"Pandora!" Mary nearly shouted.

Buck ventured a little deeper into the tunnel taking the light with him. He became a slim silhouette to the other three.

"Oh, Mary!" Pandora huffed with exasperation as she put her hands on her hips, "It could mean his life!" Pandora whipped her head around, "You don't want to go much further, Mr. Wilmington."

"Why? There something back in there that gonna eat me for dinner?" A bit of humor laced his voice, but did nothing to hide the strong hint of caution.

"Maybe," Pandora confirmed. She bobbed her head, loosening more long strings of hair.

"More 'n likely," Mary added.

"I ain't patchin' ya up any further, Buck, if you go and do something foolish," Nathan muttered.

"Oh yeah?" Buck unholstered his weapon, ignoring Jackson. He squinted and leaned even forward over his toes, trying to gleam a better look into the tunnel. "Oh yeah," he whispered. _I wonder what they're hiding?_ Where's JD when you need him? JD would be down there like a shot.

With another cautious step forward, Buck felt his courage grow.

"I'd really not be doing that," Pandora whispered. She backed away from the direction of the gunman who slowly slipped down the darkened tunnel.

Mary slowly climbed to her feet helping Nathan up along with her.

Buck took another step. The deep gray shadows of the lantern light began to close in behind him, masking him from view.

"Mr. Wilmington?" Pandora almost implored.

Buck ignored her. "I think I see something," he called back.

"Mary?" Pandora beseeched in a quiet whisper. Mary tugged Nathan around and over collapsed floor debris and toward one of the leaning ladders.

"Hey!" Buck hollered to something down the tunnel way. "Hey! I can see you! Stop!"

Pandora let loose with a whimpering squeak.

"I see something, for sure." Buck stepped further into the tunnel and all but disappeared from sight.

"There is definitely something big back here." He his voice rang back to the others who remained in the lantern light.

They could no longer see him.

Once again, they heard him yell to whoever or whatever wandered back in the cave system, "Hey!"

A deep, thunderous growl answered him.

Mary and Pandora screamed. Both women grabbed Nathan by the arms and practically threw him at the ladder.

There was the sound of something falling, followed by Wilmington's shout of fear and the pounding of his feet. He burst into the lighted part of the tunnel, waving his arms and high-stepping over debris.

"Up the ladder, ladies." He tried to keep a calm unassuming air which failed completely. He cast quick glances over his shoulder into the black tunnel he had just escaped. The scraping of large feet on dirt echoed from the tunnel. "Move along, little faster ladies." He pushed them up the ladder, uncaring of where he placed his hands and attempted to scramble up after them.

_32) "(Hurricane) Tornado" - Sablecain_

Josiah groaned as he pushed himself up from the damp earth, shaking boards and newspapers and other clutter off of him. Muscles and limbs ached, but as he did a quick survey he realized he was otherwise unharmed.

"Ezra?"

A low moan answered him.

Following the sound, Josiah felt around in the darkness until he found cloth. He patted the area, realizing he was smacking Ezra's back. "You all right, son?" the preacher questioned.

Standish's response was similar to a gurgle.

Slowly, Sanchez began clearing the wreckage away from Ezra's battered body. He glanced up at the hole they'd fall through. Daylight streamed in dimly through the mess and his eyes were slowly adjusting. "Must be a tunnel system or something," he murmured seeing the hinges and realizing Ezra had been pinned atop some kind of trap door.

He scanned the darkness around them. "You hear screams?" he asked.

Ezra gurgled again, still incoherently, refocusing Josiah's attention on him again. Searching quickly, Josiah uncovered the nearly unconscious gambler and rolled the smaller man over.

"Arggh." Ezra grimaced and shook his head. "Could y'all please stop trying to protect me now?" he half whined.

Josiah chuckled. "Not likely."

Ezra moaned, but Sanchez ignored him, looking up sharply at a strange sound coming from the depths of the darkness. "You hear that?" he asked not waiting for an answer. "Sounds like growling"

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Vin and JD stood topside staring at the huge hole that'd swallowed Ezra and Josiah.

"What?" JD scratched his head. He and Josiah had hurried to help when they'd found Vin alone, struggling to dig Ezra out of the rubble. Josiah had insisted on going in for Ez and suddenly, the ground creaked and the two men disappeared.

Through the rain, Vin shook his head wearily. "It's one thing after another," he sighed. He tilted his head skyward, letting the rain wash over his face.

"Josiah! Ezra!" JD shouted into the dark hole. "You hurt?"

Something in the wind changed, Vin frowned and opened his eyes, squinting against the rain's onslaught. Thunder rumbled above and the sky had gone from gray to green. "Crap." Tanner scowled as a piece of hail pegged him squarely atop the head.

"Ow!" JD yelped. "What is that?"

What started as tiny ice pellets turned into fist sized rocks. The winds churned.

"Get in the hole!" Vin shouted at Dunne.

"What? I can't just jump in there!" JD protested, eyeing the darkness with fear.

A roar as loud as a freight train sounded even as the sky went from green to black.

Tanner didn't give JD anymore time to argue. He grabbed the kid and threw him into the hole, jumping in after him just as what was left of the newspaper building began to lift into the sky.

_33) "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?" - NotTasha_

Larabee heaved open the door that led to the backroom of the brick-walled law office. He was met with a bookshelf decorated with crossed swords over a shield, a huge carved desk and a tall, thin figure that gazed toward the rear entrance.

The heavy door slammed shut behind Larabee with a BOOM.

The spindly man spun and froze, looking terrified. Then, a look of relief washed over him, and he went into motion. "Help me!" he shouted. "Save me! He's going to kill me!" the man cried, latching onto the gunslinger like some strange mechanical toy.

"Wild?" Chris yelled. "Where'd he go?" He tried to force the other man off, but one arm was nearly numb and the other gripped the gun. "Where's Wild?"

"He's gone! Long gone," the bony man whined, gesturing to the back door. "Oh my God, he's going to kill me!"

Chris finally managed to fling the other man off and he leapt toward the back door. "If he's gone, then you got no worries do you?" Cautiously, he eased open the door, and poked his head into what remained of the alleys of Rock Hollow. Just rain pouring, driving rain and puddles that vibrated under the deluge and splinted bits of wood and blowing papers from the earlier activities.

The sky had turned a disturbing shade of green. The wind huffed, making the door shake in his hand.

Wild could have gone right or left or straight ahead, or ducked into a doorway of one of the remaining businesses. There was no sign of him.

The other man moved behind him. "Wild? He's nothing. He's a nobody. It's my partner, James Bond, that you have to worry about."

Warlord Wolfe looked nothing like his name. All bones and height, he seemed more like a half-starved greyhound than anything wolfish.

"Please!" Warlord cried, grasping Larabee's arm. "You have to help! Oh!" He released his hold, his hands curling in disgust as he moved away. "Blood!" he gasped as he gazed at his hands. "Bond did it?"

"Wild," Chris told him as he kept searching.

Wolfe sighed. "My partner is eaten up with jealousy! He can't win a case to save his life and he blames me!" Wolfe grasped a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbed at his fingers. The movement looked like spiders dancing. "He wants me dead. That's why I'm hiding out back here."

"He's afraid of you," Larabee told him, trying to figure out the lawyer.

"What does he have to be afraid of?" Warlord said incredulously. "Look at me! The only thing he should fear is my talent! I'm far more accomplished than he is. I win my cases. I know which wheels to grease, if you know what I mean."

Chris, still peering out the doorway, muttered, "He said you shot the sheriff." There was a rumble approaching and Chris raised his eyebrows, not quite able to identify the sound.

Warlord sniffed. "I swear it was in self defense. You have no idea of what that man is capable of. Yes, I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy."

Chris looked over his shoulder at the lawyer and narrowed his eyes. The rumbling increased, like an approaching train. Hail clattered above. The windows rattled. It was if the whole room was breathing with the storm.

"Bond shot the deputy. He'll probably come after me next," Wolfe told him. "The deputy was working with Bond, trying to find some dirt about me and the sheriff." He fluttered with the handkerchief as he returned it to his pocket. "Apparently, with his digging, the deputy unearthed something that Bond would have preferred stay hidden. James figured he had to do something to take care of it." Wolfe lifted his hand like a gun and said, "boom".

And the building blew up around them.

_34) "Childhood fears" - Tipper_

Josiah looked up when he heard JD's call, asking them if he and Ezra were okay. He was about to answer when something changed.

It washed over him like a cold wind, a certainty in his bones that something truly horrific was about to happen above their heads.

As if in answer, a powerful rumble became audible overhead, different from the growling he'd heard earlier, and his eyes widened. He knew that sound, knew it from his childhood. It was one of his worst fears, and terror spiked through him. Unbidden, the image of the one he'd seen plough uncaringly through an Indian camp one afternoon came to the front of his mind. It had killed everyone in it but he and his father and sister, camped up on the far hill. They'd just watched, unable to do anything. He'd had nightmares for years, dreaming about it.

All the screaming, the bodies, the homes, all sucked up into the winds like nothing.

_Tornado_.

Suddenly, he was digging Ezra out as fast as he could, practically ripping the smaller man from his cocoon of wood and dirt, and pulling him deeper into the tunnel, paying no attention to the gambler's protests or gasps of pain. He had to get him to safety! He would not let them be taken!

He never saw JD and Vin fall down on that same pile of wood and dirt seconds after he'd started moving, or heard their screams, their voices mingling with the ones in his head from his nightmares. He was intent only on getting deeper into the caves, to get Ezra to safety, to get them both as far from it as he could.

Blackness surrounded him, but it was safesafehe had to get deeper! Had to.

He came to a dead halt, Ezra tightly gripped under his arms like a sack of feed, and stared.

Three massive dogs stared back, hackles raised, teeth bared and growling, whites of their eyes glowing in the darkness. They spread out across the tunnel, obviously guarding whatever lay beyond, the chains around their necks loose.

"Cerberus," Josiah muttered softly, too afraid to go back, but unable to move forward. He felt Ezra scrabbling at his chest, trying weakly to get free of Josiah's grip, but he just tightened his hold.

"Lord help us, son," he whimpered as the rumbling overhead increased to a deafening roar, and the dogs stalked closer, "I've brought us to the gates of hell."

**_To be continued_**


	4. Part 4

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 4**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette

_Your reviews are making us all so happy! Thank you!_

_35) "Warlord" - J Brooks_

The storm cellar door rattled and buckled in Buck's white-knuckled grip. He held tighter, trying to keep the flimsy wooden flap closed against the terrible force outside that was trying to rip it off its hinges and suck them all into the sky.

The roar outside seemed to go on forever, so loud he could barely hear the sisters screaming in terror as they crouched at the foot of the stairs. Another set of hands joined his as Nathan staggered to his side to join the hopeless effort to fend off a tornado with their bare hands.

Although, Buck had to wonder if they were any safer on this side of the door. He shuddered, remembering the eyes glowing at him out of the distance. The terrible growling and the shadowy forms, sensed more than seen. And even worse...what he'd glimpsed in the cavern beyond.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the storm's terrible roar fell silent.

Buck and Nathan kept their tight hold on the door for a beat, not quite believing it. Then, Buck threw his shoulder against the door, desperate to get into the open again, out of these terrible tunnels.

The door didn't budge. Nathan joined the effort, but something had fallen across the cellar door, trapping them below.

Nathan sank down on the stairs and fixed Buck with a weary look.

"You want to tell us what we're running from?" he said, rubbing at his aching head. "'Cause the way I see it, these tunnels probably run right under that alley where we left Chris and Ezra. Seems like the fastest way to get back to them."

Buck sank down next to him, shooting a nervous glance at the right-hand tunnel. The entrance yawned dark and silent and apparently empty. Buck knew better. He fumbled for another lantern and lit it, chasing away some of the gloom. Then he turned to the sniveling seamstresses.

"How 'bout you answer the man's questions, ladies?" he said through clenched teeth. "I got a feeling you know a hell of a lot more about it than I do."

Mary sniffled and slouched deeper into her dress. Pandora squirmed.

"They won't leave the tunnel," she said finally. "Look, we owe you for protecting us from the dynamite. And the tornado. So we'll lead you to your friends and show you the tunnels that lead out into the desert. You can walk away and forget you ever heard of Rock Hollow."

Nathan raised his head, frowning. "They?" he said. "Who are 'they'?"

"Dogs," Buck spat. "A passel of the meanest-looking guard dogs I've ever seen. Question is..." he paused, squinting again at the dark tunnel. "Whose dogs are they?"

The sisters shivered.

"Sheriff Deeds," Mary whispered finally.

That wasn't the answer Buck was expecting. "Well, I guess the next question is what are they guarding?"

\

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For the third time that day, Chris Larabee opened his eyes to a view of the wrong side of a heap of rubble.

As he lay there, glaring at a pair of book cases that had crashed together and trapped him in a narrow pocket of air between, he heard a voice calling for him.

"Mister? Mister gunman, sir?" A feeble shove set one of the book cases rocking, sending a few stray volumes sliding down to thump against Larabee's abused rib cage. He let out a grunt of protest.

"You need get out here," the voice continued. Larabee's foggy mind supplied the name Wolfe. The spidery attorney who shot the sheriff.

With a groan, he rolled onto his hands and knees and threw his back against the bookcases until they teetered and fell aside. Wolfe was crouched beside him, wringing his hands. The office around him was in shambles. The roof was gone.

Larabee shook his head, trying to focus. Tornado... He craned his neck upward, noticing for the first time that the rain was slowing. The patch of sky that was visible where the roof should have been was clearing, as if the twister had blown away the storm, along with half the town.

He staggered to his feet and grabbed the attorney by the lapels.

"Start talking," he growled.

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"Have you ever heard of the Red Hand Gang?" Pandora asked, darting nervous glances around the tunnels as if she were afraid someone might be listening.

Nathan cocked his head, frowning. "They robbed a bunch of stage coach lines back in the day. Maybe ten years ago?"

"Closer to fifteen," Mary muttered.

Buck looked from one sister to the other. He remembered the gang now. JD had bored the hell out of him with a dime novel about the gang once. The gang and its ruthless leader, known only as Red, had terrorized the territory for years and then simply vanished one day, never to be seen again.

"What's ancient history got to do with anything?" he asked, beginning to suspect the answer.

"Do you have any idea how much money they stole over the years?" Pandora asked, warming to her role as storyteller now. After a dramatic pause, she continued. "Enough money to found a town and set the bandit leader and his men up comfortably for life."

Buck closed his eyes, picturing the glimpse he'd caught of the cavern behind the guard dogs. Stacks of crates, each marked with a red handprint. And other things. Terrible things.

"Rock Hollow?" Nathan broke in incredulously. "You sayin' this town is some sort of bandit hideout?"

Mary brightened, leaning closer. "It started out that way. They used to hide out in the caves. But they wanted to settle down, raise their families..." She gestured vaguely to her sister and herself.

Buck shook his head, remembering the mealy-mouthed collection of townsfolk they'd met so far. "Your neighbors sure as heck don't act like a pack of ruthless desperados."

Pandora looked offended. "They're out of practice," she said. "It's been years since anybody crossed them. And nobody crosses Red."

"And Red is...?"

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"Sheriff Deeds?" Larabee almost choked, squinting at the fast-talking lawyer. "You expect me to believe that that blowhard you shot is one of the most wanted men in the territory?"

"Rufus Deeds!" Wolfe squawked as Larabee's hands tightened on his collar. "Rufus! Latin for 'red!' I swear! The man was a ruthless desperado! A wanton warlord! A"

A gunshot shattered the silence that had fallen in the storm's wake. Wolfe stiffened and slid slowly out of Larabee's grip to collapse in a sodden heap on the floor.

Larabee whirled to find himself facing the double barrels of a shotgun in the hands of Wolfe's shadowy partner, James Bond.

"He always did talk too much," Bond said.

_36) "Care package" - Flah7_

Josiah stood staring at the growling dogs in the low light that came in through cracks in trapdoors overhead. He carefully let Ezra slide to his feet. He kept a tight grip on the unsteady gambler and kept a slightly averted eye on the dogs. No sense challenging them with a full on stare.

The giant black beasts stalked forward slowly, lips curled back, long strings of saliva dangling from curled lips. As the dogs slid toward them, Josiah took tiny steps backward, toe to heel, Ezra staggered with him. The lead dog inched along, head lowered, hackles raised. Occasional streams of light reflected off the eye.

"Gold?" Ezra whispered with confusion, but a touch of reverence. He sniffed the air as if testing it. Injuries, almost forgotten, he jerked his head upward and off to the side. A brief moment of vertigo disoriented him, teetering him into Josiah. Unfazed, he tested the air again. "That's gold." The confusion fell away and was replaced with reverence mingled with a healthy portion of glee.

"No, brother, that is approximately 200lbs of disagreeable dog you smell," Josiah whispered.

Ezra struggled briefly in his grip, forcing Josiah to free him. The preacher maneuvered such that Standish was pressed to remain shielded by him.

Standish ignored the dogs. He stared down a darkened tunnel. His confusion as to where they were, waylaid by the prospect of monetary gain. "No, that's gold." He tested the air again and added, "and something unpleasant.

Josiah backed up another step placing his hand firmly centered on the gambler's dirty and slightly tattered shirt. Ezra gave ground without much thought, his attention squarely on the darkened tunnel to his right.

"Definitely gold." He stepped toward the right tunnel. The thick blackness seemingly swallowed him whole.

The dogs stopped, cocked their heads to the sides for a just a moment. Josiah mirrored their action.

"Brother," Josiah warned.

The three refocused their attention on Sanchez.

"Is that a cutlass? Pirate treasure?" Standish's disjointed ramblings concerned the preacher. "Legal papers?" A lucifer flared to life, creating a distant small halo of light and marking Ezra's whereabouts if only briefly. "Good Lord! All packaged and ready to be divided, equally, of course. There would be a finder's percentage as well. I did risk life and limb discovering this." The excitement faded momentarily, "and a body-spikes? Impaled with spikes?" There was a slight pause, "Josiah, we might have a bit of a problem."

Josiah altered the direction of toe heel, backing retreat and slid into the entrance of the right tunnel. "Might," Sanchez muttered with a tinge of exasperation.

The deep growls became fiercer, heads dropped lower and hackles raised.

"Ezra! Move!" Josiah pivoted on the ball of his foot and disappeared into the tunnel just as the dogs leapt.

_37) "Magic Carpet Ride" - Sablecain_

JD groaned as pushed himself up and tried to figure out where he was. He remembered the sky spitting ice and then Vin screaming at him to jump in the hole. There was no way he was going to willingly jump into that dark pit, and then Vin had grabbed him and

"Ow," he whined, grasping at his leg as struggled to his feet. Everything hurt. He felt like he'd been pummeled by the Nichols brothers all over again. "Thanks a lot, Vin. Ya had to throw us onto a heap of wood and crap?" He squinted in the dark when there was no response.

"Vin?" Panic welled up within. He glanced above, but very little light shown down from the hole above. At least it sounded like the twister was over. Carefully, he searched around, the darkness overwhelming him. "Vin?" he shouted.

A groan. JD followed the sound until he found Tanner's leg. He followed the leg up carefully patting, searching for injury.

"You wanna keep that hand, then you'll stop right there," Vin growled.

JD pulled back from Vin's thigh. "You hurt?" he questioned , straining again to see in the dark.

Vin huffed a laughed that JD was pretty sure meant he'd asked as stupid question. The man had already been shot once. "Yer gonna need to help me up," Vin explained.

Following Vin's directions, JD managed to get Vin out of the rubble that they'd landed on and tried to get him to his feet, but Tanner groaned painfully and shook his head. "Messed up my side more, and my knee."

"You can't walk?"

"Nope."

JD sat back on his haunches. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he could now make out shapes and shadows as the light from above seemed to increase as well. There was no sign of Ezra or Josiah. Where had they gone?

"Can you climb back up for help?" Vin asked, looking above at the ragged hole they'd jumped through.

"Don't think so." JD knew it was too high and the rubble they'd fallen on wasn't stacked high enough. There looked to be the remains of a ladder against one side of the tunnel, but it'd broken off high above his head. Then he focused on something else.

"Wait, I got an idea." Quickly he scurried about, grabbing what he needed. Shaking it out, he grinned. "Perfect"

The throw rug looked to be something expensive at one time. Thick and sturdy he couldn't quite make out the intricate patterns in the weave, but he didn't care either. It only took a few minutes and a lot of cursing to get Vin settled on the carpet.

Tanner looked skeptical. "Where exactly are you dragging me?"

"Don't know but there's gotta be another way out of here eventually, right? Not like things could get any worse." JD grinned and started along, dragging Tanner behind him.

"Shit, kid, don't say that."

_38) "All tomorrows come from yesterdays" (Bon Jovi) - NotTasha_

"Bond," Larabee ground out. Wolfe's body rested at his feet, among his books.

The short, balding lawyer had changed his aim, moving it from his partner to the gunslinger. Bond grumbled, "Warlord shouldn't have messed with Red, or with me for that matter." And he stood up a little taller at that comment his head nearly reaching the height of Larabee's chin.

Larabee tried to stand up in the rubble, but found himself trapped in all of it. He'd lost Ezra's gun somewhere in the destruction and his hurt arm wasn't going to be of much help.

"What do you aim to do now?" Chris asked nonchalantly. Around him, in the ruined streets, he was aware that people were just starting to move about stunned and shaken and amazed.

Bond smiled a little, "You'll get what you deserve." He stumbled a little as he moved to get a better shot. "You've done so many things," he scowled as he tried to get though the rubble, "the least of which is the destruction of our happy home."

Chris shook his head, saying "I've done a lot, but if that insane son of a bitch Wild hadn't started taking shots at me, then"

A flush of anger came over Bond. "Don't you dare badmouth Neville - after what you did to him and Lily!"

"Lily?" Chris echoed as he braced against one of the fallen bookshelves. It wobbled. "You know her?"

"Of course, I know her!" James snarled at him. "She was my sister! And you tried to steal her away! Stop moving! Stay put or I swear I'll kill you as surely as I killed Deputy Bongiovi and Wolfe. You know I can do it."

Larabee stopped moving, and stared at James Bond, trying to gauge just how far the lawyer could go. He tried to find some resemblance between him and the lovely Delilah "Lily" Wild, finding none. And then Bond's face scrunched up and his eyes welled, and Chris remembered Lily.

"She's my little sister!" James hissed. "She was sweet and innocent, and I did everything I could to protect her! When Mother and Father passed, I was the one who took her in. She looked up to me!" His eyes were moist, but his gun stayed trained on Larabee.

"She was funny and kind!" Bond kept talking. "It seems like only yesterday that Neville came to town. He was so good to her. He came to me, asking for my blessing, I gave it to them. I wanted her to be happy, to have a family and everything I had. It broke my heart when Wild moved on with her. They could have lived here in Rock Hollow." And his gun dipped a little as he remembered the parting.

Chris almost spoke, but Bond started again, "And then you came into their lives!" The gun lifted. "You destroyed the happiness they'd found! They had a future! You took it all away!"

Larbee's jaw stiffened as he uttered, "Wild destroyed it."

"He was a good man!" Bond countered. "You ruined what he ever loved and held dear, and drove him mad! And you deserve what's coming to you."

Chris kept watching him. "You're the one who told him I'd be here," he deduced. "You knew I'd be in town with Standish."

"I did," Bond admitted. "He wanted his revenge, but I can take mine for what you did to my sister."

"Wild beat her. "

Bond flinched at those words. "No! He worshipped the ground she walked on!"

"He nearly killed her. He's a mean son of a bitch."

"No, it's not possible," he said, sounding less convinced.

"Wild beat her bloody. If you'd only seen her... I was helping her get away, getting her to safety." Chris paused, remembering that night again. It had been raining, raining as hard as it had been earlier this day. He remembered Lily weeping, and holding onto him, asking that he bring her somewhere to a town to her brother - to Rock Hollow.

What followed next came to him in snatches, flashes of memory, sensations hoof-beats, the cold of the rain and how it soaked through his clothing, the smell of blood and whiskey, the press of Lily as she weakly clung to him, how she had cried, and a shape suddenly the shape of a man.

"He beat her?" Bond finally seemed to internalize what Chris had said, and truth of the words flashed over his face. "But he said " His voice drifted as the resolution hit him. "I'll kill him!" he spat and spun around, just in time to see Wild appear from around a fallen wall.

"Nev!" James exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Tell me it isn't true. Tell me that you never hurt my Lil."

Neville Wild watched him, his eyes cold and cruel, and he lifted his weapon.

Bond set his jaw and lifted his gun, but was too late.

James Bond yelped as the bullet hit him. He stumbled through the rubble toward Larabee as if looking for help, and then collapsed, crying in pain and curling up not far from where his former partner lay.

Neville smiled as he turned his gun toward Larabee. Chris reached, grasping hold of the nearest thing at hand.

_39) "Revenge is a dish best served cold" Tipper_

Chris hefted the massive book just as Neville firedand it caught the book dead center, shoving Chris back a couple of steps into a pile of rubble. He staggered and fell, landing hard onto piece of wall and desk, the book falling with him, almost crushing him.

Blinking a little, he glanced at the binding and almost laughed at the title: "Model Criminal Laws for the New West: How to Bring Order to Chaos."

"Book ain't gonna save you this time, Larabee," Wild jeered, walking closer, his eyes bright with pain and shock. The man was shaking, grinning madly and without humor, and looking about half an inch away from just collapsing.

Didn't make his hold on his weapon any less loose, however.

Chris had no more ways out, he'd used his last one when he'd grabbed that book. A couple of feet away, Bond continued to gasp in pain, holding his gut, blood seeping through his fingers, and watching them both.

Wild came to a stop about a foot away from Chris and pointed the rifle at his head.

"No more friends to save you this time," Wild sneered. "They're all in the darkness now."

"Wrong as usual, Neville," a woman said then, her voice soft. "He has one more."

Wild froze, his head lifting. Chris shifted up a little, pushing the heavy book off his chest and looked past the crazy man to the blue eyed, brunette woman standing right behind himholding a rifle to the back of Wild's head. Her long hair danced in the still strong winds.

"Lily?" Wild whispered.

"My brother's been acting weird for weeks," she said, her voice dangerously low, "hiding from me, sending me on errands out of town, not telling me things." She frowned. "I thought it had to do with all the crap going on with Red and Warlord. Never in a million years did I imagine he'd be hiding _you_."

Neville turned around, his rifle slipping down to the crook of his arm. "Lily. My love! My heart! My liebchen!"

"Your punching bag," she snarled, never lowering her aim. "What crock of lies did you feed my brother to convince him to let you come to Rock Hollow?"

"The truth, baby! That I wanted you back, and I was willing to do anything _anything_ to make that happen. I'll worship you, take care of you, make up for everything I've ever done. I swear, my days of hurting you are over! I'm not that violent man anymore!"

Lily smirked coldly, glanced down at James and Chris, and then back up again at Wild. "So, what? Chris and Jimmy just slipped on a banana peel and, whoops, you shot them?"

"He Larabee took you from me! He had it coming! And your brother was going to kill me! I had call to do what I done!"

"You always do, Neville." Lily's gaze narrowed. "But it's never the right call."

"Baby."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Lily demanded.

"Because" Wild opened his arms, "I can't live without you."

"I said, why I _shouldn't_, Neville, not why I _should_."

"Then, what about the fact that I love you? And I need you. My life is empty without you!"

"Then you'd best harden the fuck up, Neville, because you ain't getting me."

He stared at her, and then something changed in his demeanor. Chris grabbed for something to throw just as Neville tried to draw his weapon back up to kill her, but Lily was faster than both of them, pulling the trigger on her rifle.

Neville Wild's head exploded like a melon.

Chris huffed, dropping the board he was about to throw as the body of Neville Wild landed hard at his feet.

Lily grinned wolfishly, dropped the rifle, and, after kicking Neville once for good measure, looked over at Chris.

"Now we're even," she said. Chris snorted. Lily glanced at James then, who shivered while trying to smile apologetically up at her, and she sighed.

"I have to get the doc for him," she said, shaking her head sadly. "But you," she smiled again, "you need to go."

"My friends."

"Are below. You need to get them out of here. This isn't a good town, Chris. It's not even really a town. You need to find them and git, fast as you can. I'll make sure no one ever goes after you."

"But"

"Trust me. I trusted you once, and it saved my life. Now you need to trust me, so I can save yours. Find them, run, and never ever look back."

Chris frowned, but, with his joints and bones aching at every movement and his arm was worthless. He somehow managed to get back to his feet. When he did, Lily stepped back and pointed at what looked like a trap door in the floor.

"Down there. My cousins Pandora and Mary are with one of your men in one of the tunnels, I think. She can show you how to get out."

He stared at the door, then again at her. She smiled softly.

"It's really good to see you," she admitted. "I didn't know if I ever would again 's really good to see you."

He studied her a moment longer, and then gave a nod. "You, too."

He kicked some of the debris off the door, and then, with a grunt, pulled it open. Hot, musty air assaulted him from below, where stairs lead into the blackness. Taking in a deep breath, he took a step.

And then everything began to shake.

"Oh no," Lily whispered, backing up from the hole. "What now.?"

"" James Bond gasped. "Probably tunnels."

Lily's eyes widened. "Oh God"

Chris looked down into the darkness, and took another step down, grimacing as the wooden steps began to shiver.

"No, Chris!" Lily tried. "You can't go down there now! It's too dangerous. You should just go. If the tunnels collapse, your friends won't stand a chance!"

Chris just looked at her, smiled, and ran the rest of the way down the shaking stairs into the blackness.

_40) "Pandora's Box(es)" J Brooks_

Another warning rumble sounded, the ground shook, and Buck, Nathan and the two women flattened themselves against the tunnel walls, wincing as pebbles and grit pattered down on them.

"Now what?" Nathan grumbled, peering up at the rock ceiling.

"I don't know about you, pard. But I've had just about enough of this whole dang town," Buck said, glancing back at the blocked tunnel exit. "What say we find the others and-"

He glanced back at Pandora and Mary, who were still brushing rock dust out of their hair. "Which way to the tunnels that lead to the desert?"

Mary sneezed, sniffled loudly, and then pointed wordlessly down the tunnel to the right.

Buck glanced left, toward the darkened tunnel where he'd caught that tantalizing glimpse of the treasure hoard, and something uglier. He was tempted to suggest a side-trip to take a closer look. But he hadn't forgotten the dogs. Or the others, trapped somewhere in town full of tornadoes and earthquakes and mobs and random explosions and semi-retired stagecoach robbers.

He turned resolutely to the right and put his hand on Nathan's arm, ready to lead the way to the first exit back to the street level.

The sound of a gun cocking at his back froze him in his tracks.

"Not so fast," Pandora's voice purred at him through the darkness. Buck felt the rifle barrel nudging him to turn to the left. "This is just too good an opportunity to pass up."

Slowly, Buck and Nathan pivoted to face the sisters. Mary sneezed again, produced a pair of six-shooters from somewhere in her voluminous skirts, and leveled them at the two lawmen. Buck's eyes widened and he dropped his hand to his holster. It was empty.

Pandora quirked an eyebrow. "My sister can pick your pocket and then stitch you a new one," she said. "Growing up the way we did, you pick up a few things."

Leaving her sister to cover the hostages, she stepped to an alcove and pulled out a bundle of supplies and two lanterns. Lighting the lanterns, she handed one of them to Nathan and shoved the bundle at Buck.

"Three years!" she snapped, gesturing them toward the dark tunnel that led to the bandit's treasure. "Three years we've been planning how to steal that treasure out from underneath Rufus Deed's nose. And in one day, you and your friends blow everything to hell."

Nathan started walking, rubbing at his aching head. "Now, to be fair, we didn't actually blow-"

"Oh, shut up," Pandora said, giving him a little shove with the rifle. "You two are going to come in real handy when it come time to get around Red's dogs. And what comes afterward."

Buck took a tentative step into the tunnel, expecting any minute to hear the dogs' terrible growl. Nathan followed a step behind, peering warily around at the walls and ceilings. Pandora's bundle bumped against his leg. He could make out the shape of rope and tools and a few cylindrical lumps that might have been dynamite. Buck's eyes brightened at the thought.

They walked deeper into the tunnel. Ahead, Buck could see the shaft of daylight angling down from somewhere above, illuminating a distant room and its stack of boxes, branded with the mark of the red hand.

"You ladies want to tell us why it's taken you three years to go after this stuff?" Buck called over his shoulder. "Seems to me your no-good sheriff left the loot pretty much unguarded."

When neither of the sisters responded, Nathan let out a snort. "Three years is a powerful long time to figure your way around a couple of_Buck! Duck!"_

The healer dropped the lantern and threw himself at Buck's knees, sending both of them crashing to the sandy tunnel floor as something whistled overhead.

Buck raised his head cautiously and stared in confusion at a pair of wicked-looking iron spears quivering in a wooden support beam at what would have been chest-level if he'd still been standing.

Pandora's gun prodded him to his feet again. Mary, crouching over Nathan, let out a distressed squeak, staring at a spreading red stain around a jagged tear in the back of his jacket. She reached out to help, realized she was still holding two pistols, and cringed back.

Buck dropped to Nathan's side, wincing in sympathy as the other man pushed himself upright with a groan.

"I'm fine," Nathan said, trying unsuccessfully to peer over his own shoulder as Buck ripped the bandanna off his neck and pressed it hard against the cut. "One of them spear-things nicked me, is all."

Pandora cocked the rifle again. "Now you know why folks don't just waltz in and make off with the Red Bandit's treasure," she said, gesturing with the gun for Buck to start walking again.

"Your friend stays here with us. We can't have you running off with the loot the minute you're out of sight."

Buck's eyes narrowed as Pandora switched her aim to Nathan's head. The healer sat propped against the tunnel wall, breathing hard and looking absolutely furious.

"Buck..." Nathan started to argue.

Buck had already turned, picked up the bundle of supplies - equipment for getting around booby traps, he hoped - and Nathan's discarded lantern. He took a few cautious steps back down the tunnel, encouraged when nothing exploded or tried to skewer him. He could see the broken twine tripwire that had released the spears. All he had to do was keep his eyes on the walls and

Something crunched and crackled under his feet and the floor dropped out from under him. Buck pitched forward into the yawning pit that hadn't been there a minute ago

**_To be continued_**


	5. Part 5

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 5**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette

_Thank you for your reviews! Your comments fill us with happiness_

_41) "Fear of Heights" Flah7_

"Ezra! Move!"

Ezra swung around in the pitch darkness and couldn't help but think, 'move where?'

Then a broad shoulder punched into his midsection sending him flying backward, over crates, a rotting body, and into and through an unseen partition.

Wood splintered and dust floated in the inky black tunnel.

Ezra slammed into the ground and lay open mouth, gasping for an elusive breath.

The growling of dogs and gnashing of teeth meant very little to the stunned gambler.

Josiah immediately started scrambling to his feet, but howled as teeth buried into the meaty part of his calf. He sheered manically at his leg with his booted foot catching the unseen gnawing dog on the bridge of the muzzle. Sanchez continued to kick blindly at the guard dog.

The dog relinquished its grip and caught a second hit to the chest sending it tumbling backward into its pack mate, clambered blindly, trying to gain his feet, mauling Standish in the process.

Ezra continued to try to inhale with little success.

Then from a distance, a distinctive holler could be heard. A single note of distress came from above.

Standish finally gasped an elusive breath just as the rapidly approaching voice became familiar.

"Mr. Wilmington?"

As if in answer, Buck's holler became distinctly closer. It was mingled and punctuated with the sounds of crashing, splintering wood. Then a solid thud landed just above them.

Suddenly, everything was quiet, except for the soft shifting and falling of sandy dirt from above. It rained down upon the two lawmen and dogs.

The dogs paused.

Josiah twisted around looked up in the pitch black seeing nothing.

"Buck?" Josiah whispered.

The unseen cavern roof collapsed in a cascade of dried dirt, broken planks of wood, clods of clay and Mr. Wilmington. Buck landed with an expulsion of breath on top of the two lawmen in a shower of dirt, wood and assorted tools.

Soft gray light streamed in from above, giving the once pitch black tunnel a source of weak light.

The dogs whimpered.

In the distance, somewhere above, a donkey brayed.

_42) "Board Games" Violette_

"Buck?" Josiah asked, extracting himself from the pile.

"Ungh." Buck rolled his head to the left and blinked dazedly at Josiah. "Daisy? Tha' you?"

Ezra coughed. "Get... off... me."

Grunting as his bruises and the bite wound made themselves known, Josiah cleared the debris off of his friends and gently eased Buck off of Ezra, who curled onto his side, moaning in pain.

Buck waved his hand about, mumbling nonsensically.

Josiah sat and rubbed the grit from his face. A low growl to his left had him reaching for his weapon. Whirling toward the noise, he had to grin at the sight of the dogs, trapped on the other side of a tangled pile of rubble. They growled and scratched at the pile, but would not be able to reach the men.

"Thank god for small favors," Josiah said with a chuckle. He watched as the dogs seemed to come to attention, and then dart away, down the dark end of the tunnel.

"But Daisy, honey," Buck said. "You promised me a game of strip checkers."

Ezra snorted, and then wrapped his arms around his ribs with a gasp. "Our Mr. Wilmington plays the most interesting board games."

Josiah's laughed echoed throughout the tunnels.

777777777777777

Chris cursed as he hit yet another dead end. The dark tunnels were an endless maze and he was quickly getting fed up with trying to find his way through them. He turned and started trudging back toward the last intersection. When he reached it, he stopped, listening for any kind of sound to indicate which direction to take. A muted yell came from the tunnel to his left, so he turned and headed in that direction.

He could hear more noise - voices, it sounded like. He slowed his pace, wary in his approach, lest he encounter one of the hordes of townsfolk that were out for his blood. The tunnel seemed to be brightening a bit, so he kept to the side, not wanting to alert anyone to his approach.

A shadow detached itself from the gloom and came toward him. The low growling made his hair stand on end. Chris took another step forward, freezing when the shadow was joined by a second and then a third. The growling ratcheted up in intensity.

Chris thought about running, but then decided he'd had enough of this crazy town and its crazier inhabitants. The slow burn of anger had been building for hours and it now exploded. He stepped forward and glared and the three enormous dogs blocking his path, matching their growls with one of his own. He stared each of the dogs in the eye and, one by one, they backed away, whimpering as they turned tail and ran.

With a fierce grin, Chris continued down the tunnel, at the sound of Josiah's booming laugh.

"Josiah?" he called into the gloom.

"Chris?" Came the return query. "Chris look out, there's some vicious dogs down here."

"They ain't a problem anymore," Chris answered, quickening his pace. A pile of debris blocked his path, but he was able to shove enough of it aside to squeeze his slender body through. It only hurt his arm a little.

Josiah eyed the gap warily, looking behind him for signs of the dogs.

"Buck?"

"Got his bell rung," Josiah said. "What did you do to the dogs?"

"Nothing," Chris replied, moving to check on Ezra. "They ran away."

Josiah couldn't help it. He started laughing again.

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra said weakly. "I'd like to go home now."

_43) "Typhoid Mary" Sablecain_

Bouncing and lurching along the bumpy dirt floor, Vin encouraged JD onward as he eyed the soil raining from above and felt the rumbling earth below.

Bored, worried and hurting, Vin passed the time by collecting random items from the loot that lined the dimly lit tunnel. An unlit lantern was tucked between his knees, a long dingy sword hid under his injured leg. In his breast pocket rattled a handful of tarnished gold coins and a small iron plate and round his neck hung a dirt crusted glass bottle filled with a mysterious liquid. His mare's leg rested ready across his lap.

He was just reaching for an abandoned rusty canteen when JD spoke suddenly. "There's a light up ahead."

"Careful," Vin tried to warn, but Dunne was already moving with renewed energy. "Might be a trap." Vin gripped his mare's leg as JD rounded the bend at full speed.

"Nathan!" Dunne cried out only to pull up short, jerking Tanner hard.

"You should have listened to yer friend." A straggly-haired woman in a horrible green dress leveled familiar looking six shooters at Vin even as she let out three outrageously loud sneezes. "Drop the rifle," she ordered with a sniff.

Vin obeyed.

Behind her, another woman pointed her weapon at Nathan. "Over here." She motioned for JD to move. "Leave him there," she ordered.

Vin managed to stay upright when JD dropped his end of the carpet. The lady in green came closer and squatted rather unlady-like beside him. She reached out and touched Vin's hair even as he tried to lean away, patting it gently before wiping the same hand under her runny nose and sniffing.

"Mary, leave him be and help me tie this kid up." The other woman sounded exasperated.

Mary blushed and reached out to touch Vin's hair again. "But, Pandora, he's so pretty." She twisted the strands of his hair between her sticky fingers, ignoring his cringe. "Real pretty."

_44) "Buyer Beware" Tipper_

"Ezra?" Chris asked, rolling the man over. Ezra hadn't uncurled, a taut ball in the middle of the floor. Above them, a particularly loud shake caused the walls around them to shudder, and dirt cascaded down. Chris grimaced, glancing at the rock overhead with trepidation, and shook Ezra's shoulder harder. "Ezra, if you want us to get home, you need to get up."

Ezra nodded, and tried to do as requested, only to groan in pain and curl some more, barely visible in the low light where he'd fallen. The little daylight that had filtered in through the trapdoors had faded to almost nothing with all the new destruction.

Chris frowned, and, pulling his matches out of his pocket, lit a brand.

"Oh hell," Josiah muttered, seeing the light reflected in the growing pool of blood at the same time as Chris. "What-?" He struggled to his feet, ignoring the bite wound on his leg.

Chris leaned back and looked more carefully at what Ezra was lying on. And gasped.

What he had taken for loose rock and shale was nothing of the kindit was gold. Piles of gold. Coins, plates, cups, candlesticks, jewelryand weaponry. Daggers, swords, sickles, knives and, horribly, an axe with a spike on it.

A spike Ezra had impaled himself on when Buck had landed on himit was buried in his right side, just below the ribs. Chris couldn't tell how deep it went, but he could see the damage, as red blood leaked out over the shiny gold floor.

Ezra giggled, seemingly oblivious to the danger he was in, blinking softly as he picked up a gold chain with his fingers. "So pretty." he said. "Could buy whole states with this much wealth."

"It's blood money," Chris muttered. The match burned out and Chris lit another.

Josiah had managed to prop Buck up against the wall, where the normally gregarious man was trying to get his bearings back. Then he slid over to help Chris, tugging out some of Ezra's shirt from his pants to rip for a bandage.

"We need Nathan," Chris said, looking at Josiah as the other man pressed the cloth to Ezra's back in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "Any idea where he is?"

"He's up there," Buck answered, pointing vaguely at the ceiling even as he pressed a hand to his head. "Two harpies have him hostage."

"Hostage?" Josiah asked.

"Long story," Buck said weakly.

"How do we get up there?" Chris asked.

"No idea. How did you get down here?"

"Um" Chris looked behind him at the gap in the rubble, "I"

All of a sudden, the ground started to shake like it was made of jelly, the gold covered floor almost undulating. Ezra squeaked, and Chris threw himself over the gambler as Josiah threw himself against Buck to protect him. The match went out, plunging them into darkness as dust, rocks and huge chunks of stone came crashing down on top of them.

After what felt like an eternity, it subsidedand Chris coughed harshly, trying to get the dust out of his lungs. This place wasn't going to hold up much longer.

He lit a new match, and stood upor at least, tried to. A massive slab of rock had fallenit had nearly crashed down on them, but had caught on the sides, so it only cut the tunnel in half. Shaking a little with how close they had come to dying just then, he crouched in the tunnel and looked around, trying to find the others.

"Buck? Josiah?"

"Here," Josiah answered, coughing harshly. He and Buck appeared, waving the dust away from around them. They crawled towards Chris from underneath some fallen boulders, and half stood up next to him.

Chris frowned then, realizing that the way they had come was now completely blocked. That only left one way to go, and who knew how far it went. He sighed and gestured towards the other way. "Guess we're going that way."

"Just so you know," Buck muttered, sounding a little more like his old self, "there's also traps in these tunnels."

"Traps?" Chris asked. "What do you mean, traps?"

"Not sure how you avoided them coming down here, Chris, but Nathan was nearly skewered by one, and I fell down another."

"The dogs," Josiah said, looking back at the blocked tunnel. "Must've been another."

"So, you're saying, if we try to get back to where Nathan is"

"We'll be in trouble," Buck answered.

"We're not already?" Josiah asked weakly.

"Ooh, a medallion," Ezra cooed dreamily. "Look, diamonds."

"But there's also supposed to be another way out of these tunnels, leading out to the desert," Buck added. "If we can get back to Nathan, and get him away from those harridans, we might be able to find our way out."

"What about JD and Vin?" Chris said then.

"What about them?"

"They're supposed to be done here, too," Chris replied. "You seen 'em?"

Buck's silence was long, as was Josiah's. Chris blew the air out of his cheeks. The match went out at the same time, so he lit another. He was going to run out soon.

"Right," he said, half standing as well. "One thing at a time. Nathan first. Then Vin and JD. Then we get the hell out of Rock Hollow."

"So pretty," Ezra mumbled softly from the ground. "Can I keep it?" He was hugging a gold sword to his chest. "There's rubies on the hilt. I like rubies."

"Put it down, Ezra," Josiah said tiredly, before looking at Chris. "How are we getting out of here, Chris? We don't know where this tunnel goes, or if it might be as blocked as this one further down. And you're going to run out of matches soon, so we won't be able to see anything."

"Oh, hey," Buck said then, he patted at his sides, and then looked around at the ground. "Ha!" Suddenly, he was down on his hands and knees tugging a leather bag out from under some rubble and stone. He hissed a little, remembering the cut on his arm, then grinned, pulling out a lantern that still looked intact. Chris smiled back, taking it and lighting the wick.

"And even better," Buck said, pulling out a stick of dynamite.

Chris's grin grew even as the ground started to shake lightly again.

_45) "Weird Science" J. Brooks_

Ezra raked his fingers lazily through the gold coins and chains scattered around him, letting the treasure slip through his fingers again and again.

The other lawmen prowled the room, ignoring the gold as they searched for a way out. Ezra's gaze tracked after him as they paced between the slab of rock that blocked the exit and the hole in the ceiling where Buck had come crashing down.

One of Ezra's hands drifted down to brush against the hunk of metal embedded in his side. Josiah had torn his own shirt into strips and wrapped the wound around the weapon, over the blood-soaked bandages that Chris had already applied. He was afraid to try to remove it without Nathan's help.

Ezra knew he should be more concerned about the situation, but his side was comfortably numb and he was surrounded by more gold than anyone could spend in ten lifetimes. His day was actually starting to improve.

Someone caught his wrist and moved his hand away from the weapon and the wound.

"Leave it, Ezra." Chris's face peered down at him through the gloom.

The gold glinted warmly in the dim light. Ezra imagined he could feel the heat radiating from the treasure, warming him through. He reached down with his good arm to pat the coins fondly, fingers closing possessively around a handful.

Chris swatted gently at hand again, wincing as his wound pulled. "Leave that, too."

Ezra huffed and returned his attention to their surroundings, surreptitiously slipping a few gold coins into his trouser pocket as soon as Chris looked away.

Buck, still seeing double from the blow to his head, was nevertheless fiddling with the dynamite. Josiah had thrown one shoulder against the rock slab, pushing for all he was worth to see if it could be shifted. It couldn't.

Ezra stared up at the ceiling, noticing for the first time the extraordinary collection of hooks and pulleys dangling from the ceiling, along with...

"Is that a _skeleton_?" he croaked. A ragged scarecrow, all bone and rags, grinned down at him from a metal cage in one corner. Blinking, he spotted a human skull skewered through the eye on a rusting spike that jutted out of the wall. The rest the body was a tangled heap of bones on the floor, jumbled together with a stack of gold bars.

Josiah snorted. "I think our bandit leader fancies himself a pirate king."

The preacher abandoned his attempt to muscle past the fallen boulder and limped back to Ezra to crouch beside him. Chris rose and joined Buck next to the pile of supplies, yanking the dynamite away from him. He pulled a length of rope out of the bag and staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Josiah reached out and brushed a hand across Ezra's forehead, pushing back the sweat-soaked hair and frowning at the chilled, clammy feel of his skin. Ezra smiled dreamily up at him, imagining the saloon he was going to buy once he melted the damn ax in his side down into ingots.

Spying a straw-stuffed crate nearby, marked with the gang's red-hand symbol, Josiah dragged it into a relatively clear space, shoving rocks and gold dust out of the way. The gambler needed to stay warm as he fought the effects of blood loss and shock. The rest of them needed light to help them figure a way out of this hole before another tremor brought the whole place crashing down around their ears.

He struck a match and dropped it in the straw, smiling grimly as the straw blackened and curled back to reveal a set of golden chalices nestled inside the crate.

Let them melt, Josiah thought, staring at the grinning skeleton in its cage.

He could hear agitated movement beside him, and a squawk of protest as Ezra registered what was happening.

"Are you insane?" Ezra hissed, attempting to use the ruby-encrusted sword as a poker to extinguish the fire, which was crackling merrily away, hotter and hotter, blue-tinged flames licking greedily around the goblets.

The sword dropped from Ezra's shaking hand with a thump.

"That can't be right..." the gambler murmured, staring at the flames. "Blue?"

Ezra fought to sit up, eyes wild, ignoring Josiah's cry of warning as the bandages around his midsection reddened with fresh blood. Chris rushed over to grab the struggling man's shoulders and stop him from making his injuries worse.

"Blue," Ezra gasped, reaching out and grabbing Josiah's lapels. "Flames burn blue when they come in contact with lead." He jerked his chin toward fire and collapsed back against Chris with a groan of pure frustration. "Just one of those scientific oddities that every counterfeiter knows."

Josiah and Chris turned to stare at the fire. The gold finish on the chalices was melting like wax, leaving behind the dull shine of lead, slowly softening in the fire.

Ezra groaned again. "Some days, I really, _really_ hate this job." He let his head thump back against Chris's shoulder. "Someone's already robbed the Red Bandit. Stole the treasure right out from under him and substituted cheap plate imitations."

He lifted a gold coin from the floor, inspected it disdainfully, and took an experimental bite, wincing as his teeth hit a surface far harder than gold. He let the coin drop with a sigh, his eyes sliding closed.

Chris stared around the cavern, wondering how long it would have taken the thief to sneak around the traps, and the dogs, and the town full of retired bandits to swap out their treasure, bit by bit.

"Got any theories about who might have..." he started to ask Ezra, and then broke off as he realized the gambler had gone slack in his arms.

A sudden commotion overhead brought the rest of the lawmen scrambling to their feet.

777777777777777

In the corridor above, three hostages and two seamstresses stared curiously at the smoke curling up through the hole in the tunnel floor.

"What in tarnation is your friend doing down there?" Pandora demanded, turning on Nathan. "Why hasn't he signaled us to come collect the gold?"

The healer looked up from his examination of Vin's mangled leg and shrugged. "How d'you know the smoke isn't his signal?" he said, then turned back to check the bandages wrapped around the bullet hole in the tracker's side. The spear wound on his own back still burned, but he could stand it for the time being.

Vin chuckled, then winced. "I could go down there and check for you, ma'am. If JD here doesn't mind dragging this here carpet over to the hole?"

JD brightened and started to rise, reaching for a corner of the rug.

Mary let out a squawk of protest and raised the six-shooters in warning.

"Nobody's going anywhere," she said, then sneezed so hard one of the pistols misfired, sending a bullet ricocheting down the corridor, nearly taking JD's ear off in the process.

A pained roar startled them all. Mary let out a scream, followed by a sneeze, followed by a second shot into the dark.

"TWICE!" a voice bellowed out of the darkness. "That's twice I've been shot! In one day! Why the hell d'you think I retired? To get away from all the goddamn gunfire!"

A massive shape staggered out of the darkness and stepped into the weak circle of lantern light.

Pandora and her sister let out a startled shriek.

"Red!" Pandora cried, turning a sickly shade of green as her rifle slipped from nerveless fingers.

"We thought you were dead!" Mary said, shaking so hard the three lawmen ducked their heads, braced for another misfire.

Without another word, Rufus Deeds, the bandit-turned-sheriff, stooped with a groan and grabbed the sword from the pile of assorted junk Vin had collected on his travels.

The sheriff gave an experimental slice through the air with the sword, ignoring the guns Mary was still pointing in his direction. The front of his shirt was stained with dried brown blood. Fresh blood welled out of a graze on his shoulder. Deeds ignored it all, lost in the swash and buckle of his fantasy life in the tunnels.

"Now," he said finally, leveling the cutlass at the neck of his nearest hostage - Vin. "You'll find out what happens to those who try to steal the Red Bandit's treasure."

_46) "Back to the Future" Flah7_

"I'd keel haul your bilge-sucking landlubber arse from bow to stern if I had me a Galleon." Sheriff Deeds bellowed with a voice as rough as barnacled hull, which made Nathan wonder how the man's accent could change so drastically. "Instead," Deeds went on, "I'll settle for a close shave!" With that he swung his sword with a swift sweeping upward stroke.

Vin rolled to the side, into Nathan. Oiled, gnarled clusters of Vin's hair flew upward into the path of the razor sharp blade.

"No!" JD lunged forward, burying his shoulder deep into the protruding belly of the bandit turned sheriff.

"Papa!" Pandora and Mary shrieked as one. Pandora's rifle hit the dirt floor. The hammer unlocked from its cocked position and flashed forward. The buffalo gun discharged with a roar to rival any swivel gun found on the lower deck of the even the mightiest sea worthy galleon.

Dirt and debris rained down upon them all.

People froze.

Vin stared despondently at the a now unattached lock of hair.

Nathan scrutinized the tangled mass of limbs that made up a wanna-be sheriff, and a would-be pirate who suffered from being born ~100 yrs too late.

JD slowly untangled himself from the sheriff, wrenching the sword from the bigger man's bloodstained hand.

The floor rumbled and vibrated.

Spurts of dirt drifted from the ceiling.

Wood beams creaked and bowed.

A dull roar became a touch louder.

"You hear something?" JD asked. He straightened, gazing up at the ceiling, catching a face full of dust. He sputtered and quickly twisted away, dropping his head and brushed hastily at his eyes.

"JD, simmer down," Tanner whispered. He heard a trickle of water.

"You hear water?" Nathan asked.

Mary sniffled, rubbing her nose on the arm of her dress. "Pandora?" Her voice had a questioning, but slightly frightened edge to it.

Pandora furrowed her brow and then her eyes widened. "Papa?"

Sheriff Deeds, struggled to his feet, slowly gaining a three point position, pausing slightly, resting his forearms across his lower thighs.

"Blimey!" Sheriff Deeds straightened up and stamped his foot in frustration. "First, you scallywags pillage my hard earned treasure, now this!"

"This? This what? You aren't even a pirate! You don't even look like a pirate!" JD blurted with a tinge of frustration. "When did you start talking like that anyway?"

The rumbling was growing intensity. The vibrations were felt more than heard.

Sheriff Deeds stood as straight as he could, with two recent bullet wounds. "Arg, I could have been a great pirate!" he rumbled, his accent becoming even more piratey. "Ruled the seven seas and amassed a fortune, yar!"

"You live in a desert," JD stressed with a hint of exasperation.

The sheriff dismissed the observation with a wave of his hand, "Arrrggghhh, them's just details, me hearty."

The rumblings became more pronounced. The dirt cascaded down around them in waves.

"Pandora, love, you best be running along, it sounds as if that aquifer we built years ago finally gave."

"Not without you, papa," Pandora reached for her father.

"Yaaarrrrr, best git running, dear. Take yer sister with ye." He turned a baleful eye at the three lawmen and pulled revolver from his waistband. "I have some biscuit eaters that need sendin' to Davy Jone's Locker."

A thread of water ate its way across the dirt floor in a slowly widening stream.

"He's insane." JD turned to Nathan in disbelief, "He's insane. Seriously, he didn't talk like that earlier, did he?"

"He also has a gun, JD," Vin pointed out. He ran his fingers through the patch of very short hair on the side of his head.

"Bad combination," Nathan muttered. Water began to pool around his knees.

"Go on now, me loves," Sheriff Deeds spoke to his daughters, keeping his revolver trained in the general direction of Nathan and Vin. He'd be sure to hit at least one of them, should the lawmen make a move.

Pandora gave her father a long look and then grabbed Mary by the arm and disappeared down a side tunnel.

A thick shower of dirt obscured their retreat.

"Now boys, be prepared to meet yer maker."

Three things occurred at once: The three lawmen froze; Sheriff Deeds suddenly disappeared through a sudden collapse in his portion of floor, and a rush of knee high water bowled through the far wall.

Sheriff Deed's screams of frustration were masked by the hollering of three lawmen, the rush of water and the braying of the wayward ass.

The donkey splashed by a stunned JD, with a Rhode Island Red riding its back, wings out trying to keep its balance.

**_To be continued  
conclusion tomorrow!_**


	6. Part 6

**Bad Moon over Rock Hollow - Part 6**

**A Magnificent Seven - Round Robin Story**  
by Flah7, J Brooks, NotTasha, Sablecain, Tipper, Violette

_here we go with the final part. We hope you enjoy_

_ 47) "Desert" - Sablecain_

Chris was staring at the hole above, straining to hear what was going on, when suddenly the entire cave rumbled once more and, with a gush of water, Sheriff Deeds came barreling down through the dirt and mud.

"What's happening?" Buck tried to ask as a waterfall formed in the center of cave, but there was an ominous roar.

There was no time to answer. Even as Deeds struggled to find his footing in the deepening water, loose coins and loot that'd he'd hoarded for years, a new wave of water and mud rained down from above.

Josiah grabbed Ezra as Chris reached for Buck, but the water was too much. More of the ceiling fell in on them and the fake treasure, bringing the screaming trio of Vin, JD and Nathan and a donkey with it.

The tidal wave picked them all up, tumbling and tossing them in a massive rush through tunnels forced open by the power of the surge.

Gasping, they all fought for air as the current hurled them about. They brushed the sides of the tunnel, picking up more dirt and mud until what was once a watery mix was now a thick, massive wave of mud and debris.

Chris held on to Buck's belt.

Josiah kept his arms tight around Ezra and the ax imbedded in the southerner.

Vin kicked wildly with one good leg and clutched at his side.

Nathan grabbed onto the donkey as it floated past, knocking off the Rhode Island Red that had once again found its back.

JD doggy-paddled to keep his head above the gunk.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun, the flood turned mudslide pushing them up and spitting them forcefully into the desert onto a pile of sludge, well outside of the town of Rock Hollow.

Ezra blinked up at the blooming ocotillo waving in the damp breeze above him as groans and curses sounded from the others trying to untangle themselves from the muck. "What just happened here?"

_48) "Sword Fight" - Violette_

Nathan brushed the mud from his face and carefully extracted himself from the debris. He surveyed the muck-covered bodies lying around him with dismay. They were all half-buried in mud and debris. Bit of faux gold and jewels sparkled in the fading daylight. A donkey staggered in a drunken path along the edges of the mud pile. A disgruntled-looking chicken flapped its wings and squawked as it tried to free its feathers of the accumulated mud.

"All this mess for a bunch of fake treasure," Nathan groused, brushing a few phony coins off of his pants along with wet clots of dirt. Starting for the nearest body - who he finally recognized as Buck, once he cleared away enough muck to see his face - he started checking for new injuries.

The chorus of moans and groans was disrupted by a yell as Sheriff Deeds leaped to his feet, waving his sword in front of him. "Ye scurvy buggers!" he growled. "Steal my treasure, will ye? I'll show you." He homed in once again on Vin, who scrabbled at the ground, looking for a weapon.

His reactions slowed by the sticky, clinging mud and debris, Vin rolled aside, cursing as the sword sliced toward his head. "Crap!" he shouted, as another large clump of hair fell victim to the blade. "Could use a little help here, guys!"

"Damnit," Chris growled. "What does it take to put that bastard down?" With his one good arm, he started digging his legs out of the mud.

"Nathan!" Josiah called, as he carefully cleared the mess from around the wound in Ezra's side. "Ezra needs help."

Nathan was torn between defending Vin from the mad swordsman and taking care of his other injured comrades. Before he could make up his mind, Buck pushed himself to his feet and headed for Vin.

"Toss me that sword, Josiah," Buck called, swaying slightly as he tried to focus on the would-be pirate.

Vin ducked again as a swipe of the sword liberated yet another lock of hair.

Josiah did as requested, throwing him the gaudy bejewelled sword that Ezra had so admired, but Buck fumbled the catch, dropping the sword in the mud. Squinting hard, Buck pawed at the ground until he found the sword. He raised it just in time to deflect a blow from Deed's cutlass.

"Ye can't best me with the blade, ye landlubbin' bastard," Deeds taunted.

"We'll see about that," Buck said, slicing the air in front of him with the flashy sword.

"Buck?" JD called weakly from underneath a pile of detritus.

"Stay there, JD," Buck answered. "I'll take care of this crackpot."

"Can you even see straight?" Chris asked as he pulled one foot free of the mud with a wet, squelching sound.

"Straight enough," Buck said, lunging crookedly toward Deeds.

"Vin?" Chris turned his attention to the downed tracker. "You all right?"

Vin glanced briefly at Chris before turning to gaze forlornly at the clumps of hair clutched in his hand. "My hair."

"What?"

"Bastard cut off my hair," Vin moaned, clutching the tangled locks to his chest.

Giving a disgusted sigh, Chris went back to digging in the mud. His other his leg was still buried under the thick muck.

While the sword fight intensified, Nathan stumbled his way toward Josiah and Ezra. He grimaced at the sight of the axe imbedded in the southerner. "Damn, Ezra. You sure know how to get into a fix."

"My sword," Ezra said with a pout. "He took my sword." He looked up at Nathan beseechingly. "It had rubies on it. Pretty, pretty rubies..." Ezra's head lolled to the side. "Look, it's ocotillo. Ocotillo!" He giggled for a moment before his face went slack and consciousness deserted him.

"Aw hell." Nathan cursed and started searching the area for any kind of medical supplies while the swords clanged in the background.

_49) "War of the Worlds" - J Brooks_

Buck took an awkward swipe at the sheriff and overbalanced, sprawling flat just as the other swordsman's counter-thrust whistled through the air where his neck had been.

Scrambling backward, Buck hauled himself upright again, swaying slightly as he fought to keep the world in focus. His head ached and he was bruised head to toe from being tossed around dark tunnels by rushing water. The day was stretching toward sunset and the air was already taking on a chill that bit through his soaking wet clothes.

Shaking off his discomfort, Buck hefted the sword, grunting at the godawful weight of the thing and how it pulled at his hurt arm. He brought the ungainly weapon up again to block another brutal swing from Deeds.

The weapons met with a dull clunk and Buck's eyes widened as the would-be pirate's heavy cutlass bit deeply into the soft golden metal of his own gaudy weapon. For a moment, the two swordsmen froze, staring at each other, with their weapons improbably locked together.

Sensing his chance, Buck tightened his grip on his sword and threw his weight backward. The move caught the sheriff off-balance and he lost his hold on his sword. Buck tumbled backward with both swords - and promptly crashed into Chris, who had finally freed himself from the mud and was rushing to the rescue. The two lawmen tumbled back into the sticky mud.

The entangled swords flew out of Buck's hands. From somewhere behind them, JD let out a startled yelp.

"JD?" Buck called out, shoving Chris's elbow out of his face. His head throbbed in pain, blood pounding in his temples so hard it felt like it was shaking the ground beneath him.

Before JD could reply, Deeds was looming over the two sprawled lawmen, a crazed glint in his eye and a huge rock hoisted high overhead.

"Yarrrr-" Deeds began, and then froze, as a low rumbling noise filled the air around them.

Buck felt hands latch onto him and haul him back. Vaguely, he was aware that Josiah had him under the armpits and was dragging him away from the rock-wielding bandit while Nathan helped Chris to his feet.

Deeds ignored them, pivoting to face the new threat. His jaw dropped. The rock slipped through his slack fingers.

And a moment later, an enormously fat hog barreled into his midsection, sending him flying.

The rumble turned into the low thunder of dozens of hooves striking the ground. Cows, donkeys, a goat and a few squawking chickens stampeded by. The waterlogged donkey from the tunnel let out a delighted hee-haw and trotted off to join the livestock as they continued on their way. The bedraggled Rhode Island Red let out a triumphant crow from its perch on the donkey's hindquarters. It, and the rest of the stampede, vanished slowly into the sunset in a cloud of dust. The occasional moo floated back to them on the wind.

Slowly, the lawmen shook off the shock and looked around, checking on each other.

Vin had thrown himself over Ezra, who was curled motionless on the ground, the bandages around his midsection now soaked thoroughly crimson. Nathan helped Chris back to his feet and rushed to the gambler's side.

Larabee limped over to study the prone form of Deeds, who sprawled face-down in the muck with a line of hog hoof prints tracked across his back. Chris gave the flattened sheriff-bandit-pirate an unsympathetic prod with his boot.

"Yarrrrrrrggh..." Deeds gargled into the dust. Chris shook his head. Deeds was down, but not out.

Buck shrugged off Josiah's hands and staggered over to JD, who was sitting sprawled on the ground with the interlocked swords vibrating in the ground between his legs, narrowly missing anything vital.

"Promise me," JD squeaked, scooting back from his near-gelding. "Promise me you're never gonna pick up a sword again."

Buck let out a breath and leaned against the swords. "Kid, that's a prom-" And with that, the two swords broke apart and Buck tumbled to the ground again.

From his new vantage point, he studied Ezra's golden sword with the one eye that wasn't pressed into the mud.

"Y'know," he said, reaching out to poke the dented sword that lay inches from his nose. "I think this here sword might actually be made of gold."

He poked the sword again, watching the gold glint in the deep cut the cutlass had left in the blade. The rubies on the hilt glittered in the golden light of the setting sun.

Larabee crouched by his side and hefted the sword experimentally with his good arm, grunting at the unexpected weight. Gingerly, he raised the thing and bit down, hard, on the tip of the blade. He pulled back and studied the tooth marks he'd left on the soft metal.

"Gold," he confirmed with a frown.

JD let out a small laugh. "Ezra's gonna be real happy to hear that," he said, glancing nervously over to where Nathan was working on the gambler.

Larabee turned the sword, his frown deepening. "Don't make no sense," he said, studying the beautiful, impractical thing. "Why is this made of solid gold when the other crap in that tunnel was made out of lead?"

"Because," a voice rang out behind him. "We hadn't gotten around to stealing it and replacing it with a lead copy. Yet."

777777777777777

Vin's disgusted groan rang out through the evening air.

Pandora let out an affronted sniff. Three women stood shoulder to shoulder, studying them over the barrel of their guns.

"You're welcome for the stampede, by the way," Lily Wild said with a wry smile. "You think it's easy keeping that many animals running long enough to save you from getting your brains bashed in? It's not."

She cocked the shotgun and gestured toward the sword. "We'll be taking that now."

There was an explosive sneeze as Mary stepped away from her sister's side and pulled the sword out of Larabee's unresisting grip.

Pandora strolled over to Deed's sprawled form and gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder. "Up and at 'em, Papa," she said.

Deeds coughed and rolled onto his back to study the darkening sky with a martyred expression. "Ye know I hate livestock, girls. Fit fer nothin' but salt pork and jerky for long sea voyages."

"There, there," Pandora crooned, throwing the sheriff's arm over her shoulder and hauling him to his feet. She steered him toward an overloaded wagon and ox team waiting not far away. "We're going to a place where you won't have to worry about bullets or stampedes ever again."

Larabee took a menacing step forward, glaring hard at Lily Wild. "What are you planning to do with him?" he demanded. He'd already seen her gun one man down today.

Lily quirked a small smile at him. "We're taking him east with us. We have enough money now to settle somewhere nice. Maybe a little cottage near the ocean."

Deeds brightened, looking remarkably chipper for a man who'd been shot twice, nearly drowned and then trampled by a pig. "The sea?" he called out, hobbling faster as he made his way to the wagon. "Yo ho ho!"

Mary tucked the golden sword under her arm and hurried after him, giving one last longing look back at Vin and Nathan. "We'll get you a little boat, Papa," she called out to him.

"Yarr, a galleon to ply the seven seas!" Deeds crowed, clambering aboard the wagon.

"Maybe a dingy," Pandora hedged, helping Mary into the wagon and climbing up after her.

Larabee turned to study Lily. "You expect us to just let you ride off with your stolen gold?"

Lily sighed and glanced back at the impatient trio in the wagon.

"Look," she said. "My brother, his crooked partner and half the other 'upstanding citizens' of this fine town have been plundering the bandit gold for years. Ever since Uncle Red's mind started to go and he started melting the payroll gold into doubloons and such."

Buck let out a chuckle, still sprawled on the ground. "How'd they get past the dogs?"

"And the spears that come shooting out of the war?" Nathan called out.

"And the trap doors in the floor?" JD chimed in.

Lily shook her head. "Who do you think put the traps in there in the first place? A town full of thieves, trying to stop the other thieves from stealing all the gold before they could. I think they were hoping to kill the Red Bandit, but the man has more lives than a cat. As long as the thieves replaced what they sold with lead replicas, Sheriff Deeds never seemed to mind."

"So you ladies just figured you'd take your share while you could?" Josiah asked. He stepped casually up to Chris's side. Larabee felt the cold steel of the pistol the preacher pressed against his hip. He shifted a hand and took hold of the gun.

Lily tossed her head. "Can you blame us? We had to get out of that terrible town."

"What about your brother?" Larabee asked.

"The doctor tells me he'll live," she said.

"'Til they hang him for shooting the deputy," Chris said dryly.

"The 'deputy' was Deeds' old second-in-command. He was a ruthless killer with a price on his head. If anything, my brother stands to collect a $500 bounty."

Larabee tightened his grip on the gun and waited.

Lily backed slowly toward the wagon, keeping her weapon trained on them.

"Don't follow us," she said, half an order, half a plea.

Pandora clucked at the ox team and the wagon lurched slowly away through the gathering twilight. Sheriff Deeds' voice rang out from somewhere under the wagon's canvas roof, belting out an off-color sea shanty.

Larabee watched for a moment, and then passed the gun back to Josiah.

"You're going to let them go?" Josiah asked, not sounding surprised. He moved away to start a fire so Nathan would have light enough to work. JD helped Buck to his feet and guided the unsteady man toward the healer.

Larabee turned his back on the wagon tracks and turned to study his battered, bedraggled men.

"Not our town. Not our problem," he said.

Somewhere in the darkness, Nathan sneezed.

"Thought you never got sick, Nathan?" Buck said.

"Shut up, Buck."

_50) "Overnight Camping" - NotTasha_

Ezra awoke, feeling hot and tired and sore and entirely uncomfortable. Annoyed, he blinked at the star-filled sky above, remembering that it had been raining. Funny, that. "Shouldn't it be raining?" he said with great clarity.

Josiah's face suddenly hovered over his. "Ezra?" he called. His face was taut for a moment, and then it relaxed into an open big-toothed grin. "Thank the Lord."

"What is going on?" Ezra asked. "The last thing I remember"

But he was cut off as Sanchez clamped a huge hand clamped over his forehead. Josiah frowned. "Fever," he muttered, "That explains it. Best keep Nathan from him until it breaks. No sense giving him a cold on top of all this." Then he patted Ezra's face in a most familiar way. "It doesn't seem to be too bad though," Josiah went on, "Hopefully he'll pull out of it soon."

Ezra had neither the strength, nor the inclination to push him away. He felt drawn out, utterly tired, and strangely detached. Besides, the hand at his cheek felt cool and somewhat comforting.

"How you feelin', son?" Josiah asked, sounding so concerned it hurt Ezra to think about it.

Ezra tried to form a barbed retort, but JD spoke up instead, "He awake?"

"Nearly," Josiah answered.

"I'm quite awake and have all my faculties," Ezra growled, which made JD laugh.

"Yeah," the kid said cheerfully, "Not really there yet. But it's good to see you awake, Ezra."

Ezra tried to glare at him, but even that was difficult. His head still hurt fiercely from that drubbing of the previous day. His shoulder scolded him non-stop, reminding him that he was meant for easier activities. He was sore and bruised and scraped and scratched and torn and _GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!_

A new agony assaulted him and he tried to curl up against the pain in his side. He was being ripped apart! _Damn it! Damn it! _He sucked in air through his teeth as he struggled to get away from the hurt. This is what comes of cataloguing your pains! _Hell! Damnation! Son-of-a_

Suddenly, Josiah and JD were on him, trying to calm him, and then Larabee, Buck, Vin and Nathan swam into his hazy, pain-reddened view. He hardly heard them through the buzz in his ears and the swimming world around him, but after a monumental amount of time, the pain evened out and he was on his back again, staring up at the stars.

He panted as the others settled near him. Josiah stretched out his leg with a groan. Vin eased himself down daintily. Everyone, with perhaps the exception of JD, seemed rather done-in. They were talking, but the buzz still filled his head, fading slowly. His vision cleared until the stars became sharp again.

"Was raining earlier," Ezra restated when he was able. "It was raining a lot."

"What did he say?" Buck asked someone.

"Said it was raining," Vin translated. "Stopped a while ago, Ez."

"No moon," Ezra added, because the stars were so bright.

"Was up earlier," Vin told him. "Gone down about the same time as the sun."

"Strange," Ezra commented.

"The moon in daylight never bodes well," Josiah told him, helping him sit up to take a drink from a canteen. "At least he's talking clearer," he said to the others.

To avoid looking at Josiah, Ezra turned toward at Vin when the canteen was drawn back. The tracker was trying to find a comfortable position beside him, and was obviously in some pain. Standish was about to ask after his health, when his gaze caught curiously on Vin's head. _What the_

Great chunks of hair seemed to be missing from Tanner, leaving him looking like a half- plucked chicken. A little burst of laughter escaped him, which only made him wince and moan and hunch against Josiah.

"Ezra?" Josiah asked, carefully holding the gambler against him. "What's wrong?"

Standish lifted one weary hand and pawed at what was left of the greasy locks on Tanner's half-scalped pate.

Startled, Vin scuttled away, and put a protective hand over what was left. "No need to make it worse," he grumbled as he tried to finger the damaged coiffure into some semblance of 'scruffy'. Tanner glanced to the others, looking hunted and forlorn.

But Ezra's attention had already wandered, and his gaze fixed on a chubby donkey that pulled at the grass near a tree. A chicken nested on its back, clucking quietly to itself as it brooded. A bull was bawling and romping outside of their little circle, idling near a small mob of cows that didn't seem to inclined to run away. A large hog wallowed in the mud, acting as a hurdle for the bovines to leap in their lusty chase. Not far from Chris, peaceful- looking big dog rolled on its back and exposed its belly. And a large tan-and-white goat chewed on what might have once been his jacket.

Usually, that would have been tantamount to murder in Ezra's book of grievances, but he was too tired to pay the creature much mind. And besides, the jacket was already ruined.

A quick glance at his comrades revealed that most were bandaged and bruised in some way or another. _What the hell?_

All around them was destruction - busted boards, a sword sunk into the ground, swollen ruined baskets and boxes, tossed nails, blown out lamps, an empty whisky bottle and whatnot. Their group appeared to be on the only bit of dry land in the vicinity. The ruin surrounding them was impressive.

Much of their muddied clothing was hung nearby, beside a cheerful fire, drying. His gaze fell on the flames and he was transfixed by the warmth and the movement for a moment or two. It wasn't until something touched his face that he realized that Larabee was calling his name.

"You all right?" Larabee asked seriously.

"What happened?" Ezra breathed out.

The six men sat back and seemed to ponder that question.

"Dynamite," Buck finally stated. "Explosions. Buildings going 'boom!'"

"Gunfire," Chris added.

"Sword fight," Nathan included.

"Fire and flood," JD interjected.

"Rain and hail and thunder and lightnin' and one hell of a tornado," Vin put in, shaking his head.

"Don't forget the earthquake," Josiah stated. "Hard to forget that. It was all a little like Judgment Day coming." And then added quietly, "And the bad moon."

"Stampede, more than one of 'em," Chris added.

"Sickness," Nathan sneezed.

"Wannabee pirates and crooked lawyers and fake lawmen and testy dressmakers and one crazy son-of-a-bitch with too much dynamite and not enough sense," Buck said. "And a wronged woman."

"Underground caves too," JD stated.

"Big dogs," Larabee said, and at the words the black dog rolled off its back and sat up, looking lovingly toward Larabee.

"And traps!" Buck pronounced.

"Lots of traps," Nathan said, dolefully rubbing at a spot on his back.

"It was one hell of a time," Buck said with a wink and a big grin. "One hell of a time!"

Ezra looked at them as if they were all crazy, and settled his head back on the ground, trying to wrap his mind around it all. The scenes that flashed before his eyes were preposterous. It was if the events had been cobbled together from half a dozen different storytellers. Insane. And he closed his eyes for a moment, remembering.

"The crazy man," Ezra said softly. "Was shooting at you?" and he fixed his gaze on Larabee.

"Yeah," Larabee replied.

"Why?"

Chris said nothing, holding Ezra's gaze as if he wished the southerner would give up and fall asleep.

Not liking that response, Ezra persisted, "I would like to know why the man was gunning for you, and getting me in the mix instead," Ezra told him. He brought a hand to his sore shoulder. "I think I deserve that much."

Chris sighed. "Long story," he said.

So Buck explained, "Bastard beat his wife. Chris got her out of that situation a while ago. Wild wasn't happy about it. Came looking."

Ezra blinked as he absorbed this information. "He still breathing?" he asked.

They all waited until Chris explained, "His wife blew his head off."

Ezra nodded, and said, "Good." The head dipped as weariness tugged at him, and the men around him settled, ready to return to sleep themselves until Ezra's head shot up as he finally drew forth the most important part of the puzzle.

"Gold! Coins and goblets and swords and jewels and ah hell." His hopeful expression fell, remembering more. "All of it lead and worth nothing."

"Most all of it," Buck commented, and then lifted a jeweled ax that had a nasty looking spike at one end.

Ezra shuddered a little at the sight of it, but couldn't explain why. His mouth dry, it took a moment for Ezra to find his voice. "It's all fake," he sighed. "Not worth the time it took to construct."

Buck took the axe closer to the firelight, where it glittered as prettily as the ghastly device could. "This one ain't lead," he said. "Too heavy. Metal's too soft. There here is gold, hoss."

As tired and as hurt as he was, the notion gave Ezra strength, and he sat up a little in spite of the pull at his stomach. "Gold?" The word had an innocent quality to it, like a child asking if angels really existed.

"You sit back down," Josiah ordered, patting him hard enough on the chest to push him back to the ground. "Don't get Nathan riled up, because he's going to want to get back over here and fix you, and we don't need him sneezing on you and getting you sick."

"I'm not sick!" Nathan said nasally, and then sneezed loudly. "I don't get colds."

"Gold?" Ezra repeated, in the same hushed tone.

"Figure we can share it out," Buck said. "'Less of course we can figure out where it came from originally."

That idea made Ezra frown, but his lips turned up a little at the corners as he remembered the weight of the coins he'd heaped in his pockets. Not everything in that cave was lead, of that he was almost certain. He'd smelled gold the moment he'd entered the place, and his nose was rarely wrong.

Since the others seemed preoccupied with other things, he fingered one coin in his trouser pocket. Gold. It had to be!

He glanced over to Vin who was hunched away from the group, pulling coins from his pockets as well, and a few other trifles. If those pieces were gold as well, it would only take a hand or two of poker, and there'd be a switch of ownership.

If Ezra played on the sympathy and the guilt of the others, that axe would be his in no time, and his smile grew more serene.

"Let's get some sleep," Chris said. "Looks like it's nearly daylight. We'd best make use of what night we have left." The black dog slunk to his side, thumping his tail and curling up next to Larabee with a contented sigh.

"I'm just glad to be out of Rock Hollow," JD stated. "I ain't never been in a place as crazy as that! Still, do you really think we shouldn't go back and take care of things? I mean, they're thieves and murderers and such. We should do what's right and get them to justice."

The men put up a shout of disgust, and Ezra closed his eyes as he reached into his pocket and fingered the coins. Gold - he was sure of it.

And somewhere, in the distance, a serious of explosions sounded as the last of the fire reached the last of the explosives in Rock Hollow. Those that cared looked up to see the glow of orange in the distance.

Ezra, the cows, the bull, the goat, the donkey, the Rhode Island Red and the big black dog just went on with what they were doing. They were happy, after all.

**THE END**

_Thanks again for all your comments. We had a lot of fun writing this story._


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